Benders: Web of Lies
by Jaya Avendel
Summary: The war is over and Sauron is defeated, driven back by the last Alliance of Men and Elves. Thranduil and his wife are raising their four children in Mirkwood. But Thranduil's troubles are not over yet for never before could he have imagined his gifts could cause such a rift to open in the ties of family love or cause one he loves to be cruelly injured. Third in the Benders Series.
1. It Is Not Funny The Third Time

**Please not all of those characters of whom you do not recognize belong to me. Those Tolkien created are his, slightly modified in terms of gifts, but still his in name.**

* * *

Cinwe smiled at her husband, taking his hand in his and holding it tight. Her slender build and high cheekbones made her a beautiful woman, with honey blonde hair and dark eyes.

"I will be all right," she said, her voice soft and languid. "If I can tame you, I can carry any child of ours." Her eyes sparkled.

"But you look so pale," Thranduil argued, looking with concern at his wife's pale cheeks. His free hand felt Cinwe's round belly, large and protruding with pregnancy.

Cinwe patted her husband's hand. "Well, the baby is due to come in no less then a week, you know."

"Perhaps you should stay in bed and rest," Thranduil suggested. "So short a time . . . it cannot be good for you to be on your feet."

His wife looked appalled. "Valar, no! If I have stood on my feet from the beginning, I intend to until the end! I am not as weak as all that, Thrandy."

A smile spread across Thranduil's face. He leaned forward to kiss his wife on the lips before he sat down on the low bench behind her. The bench stood on soft grass, under a stand of oak trees off the path leading back to the palace. It was a short walk and the warm air and bright sun made it irresistible.

Cinwe sat down beside Thranduil, her loose gown rippling, and one hand on her belly. Thranduil looked up at the sky, full of the many worries of a soon parent to be.

"Now, Thrandy, there is no need to worry," Cinwe said. "The baby is strong and healthy within me, and my body is supple. I am sure there will be no trouble. The Healers will take good care of me, when the time comes."

Thranduil pushed a lock of hair out of his face. "If you are not worried, I will try to control my feelings."

Cinwe sat back with a small smile, remembering the stir of excitement the announcement of her pregnancy had created in Mirkwood. Naturally, the elves were eager to see who Thranduil's heir would be.

Thranduil stood up. "I dare say we should return to the palace now. The time for dinner nears."

Cinwe placed a hand on her husband's arm as she drew herself to her feet. She walked slowly on the return journey to the palace. Thranduil matched her pace. It took twenty minutes to reach the palace, twenty minutes spent in the silence of unspoken love.

The guards outside the entrance nodded a greeting, casting curious looks at the Queen. Cinwe nodded and smiled before she continued her slow pace to the dining hall. She sat down with a small sigh in the padded armchair at the small table. Thranduil sat opposite her.

"We will need a bigger table soon," Cinwe said, her hand on her belly, and the thought of her child gleaming in her eyes. "After all, this table is for two."

Thranduil smiled. "The woodworkers are already working on it." He turned his head as two servants entered the room holding trays of food. He started to speak a greeting but the words froze on his lips as he heard his wife gasp. He sprang to his feet as Cinwe said, her face going a shade paler, "I think it is time . . ."

"Fetch the healers!" Thranduil screamed, giving one of the servants a shove. The tray of food crashed to the ground as the elf departed at a run.

Cinwe reached for her husband's hand and squeezed it tight, smiling with some force. "I will be all right, Thranduil. We women are made to bare this—oh." She let out a small moan.

Thranduil bit his lip as two elves entered the room carrying a stretcher between them. Cinwe allowed herself to be lifted onto it and carried away. Thranduil followed close behind her.

"Please wait here."

Thranduil stared at the elf standing before him. She was dressed in a healer's robe. "But my wife—"

"Your wife is fine, hir nin," the woman said firmly. "But it is best you stay outside of the birthing chamber while the midwives help her deliver."

Thranduil frowned, not at all pleased with the idea. But the woman remained firm and at last Thranduil allowed himself to be shoved into a seat outside the birthing chamber. He buried his face in his hands and waited.

The shriek of a newborn elfling sent Thranduil flying to his feet. He opened the door to the birthing chamber, entering the room beyond. A bundle wrapped in white was put into his arms by a smiling elleth.

Thranduil cradled the baby to his chest, looking down at the big blue eyes of his son. As he looked up to see his wife, one of the midwives let out a shriek. "There is another one coming!"

The elleth dashed away from Thranduil, leaving him to hold his son as the baby began to try out his lungs, wailing lustily. Thranduil rocked the boy, hoping to keep him quiet. The baby quieted as he continued to be rocked.

The elleth returned with another tiny bundle. "My lord, it is with great pleasure that I announce the birth of twins." She started to hand him the second bundle, wide smile on her face, but from behind her a quiet voice said, "There is a third child coming."

Thranduil caught his second son in an embrace as the elleth rushed back to Cinwe with a small exclamation. The baby gurgled, looking up at him with big eyes. Thranduil smiled, forgetting to wonder about the surprise of having triplets. He watched the head midwife hand his third child to one of her apprentices with a small sigh, but his arms were full with two babies and he could not possibly manage a third.

The elleth turned her head toward Thranduil with a small smile. "It is not very day triplets are born, my lord. You should be proud." She wiped a hand across her forehead.

"I am no more proud to be a father of one than I am three," Thranduil said.

"Quadruplets, my lord," said the midwife as she produced a forth child.

The head midwife put out a hand to steady herself, touching a hand to her brow. "What can the valar be thinking? Four children?"

Cinwe raised herself up on the pillows, holding out her arms to Thranduil. "I do not know how I can feed them all but I better start now or they will be hungry. Give me the ones that came first."

Thranduil deposited the two elflings in his arms to his wife and, as she nestled them to her breasts, he turned to take the other two from the woman holding them. As for the head midwife, he noticed her calm demeanor looked rather frazzled.

* * *

Cinwe lay in her bed, propped up against pillows, her hair in two braids, a baby clasped in each arm to her breast. The other two elflings lay beside her, asleep. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks were rosy as she smiled at Thranduil sitting on the edge of the bed, gently stroking the soft cheek of his closest son.

"One thing is for sure," Thranduil said thoughtfully, looking up to meet the eyes of his wife, "They will be a handful to raise."

Cinwe waved her hand. "But it will be fun. We will do it together. Now, what will be a handful is picking out names for them."

"Now that will be fun," Thranduil said, brightening. "What will we call them?"


	2. Anger

Brenen Thranduilion skipped happily through the woods, his blonde hair blowing out in the cool spring breeze. His bright blue eyes regarded the path before him with eagerness as he jogged along. He loved being in the company of his brothers but he liked to be alone, in the company of the trees from time to time, especially after a good wrestle.

Brenen stopped, his ears pricking up. His brow dipped into a frown as he listened, scanning the trees around him. He heard whimpering. After a moment, he picked a direction and followed it. He walked off the path, carefully avoiding thorny underbrush, and making his way around fallen tree trunks. He stopped and knelt down, parting the bushes to reveal a wolf pup with a thorn in its paw. The grey furred creature turned unhappy yellow eyes to his face.

Brenen looked at the wolf pup without any fear before he reached out and picked the thorn from the pup's paw. He sat back on his heels, the thorn still in hand and admired the effect. The wolf pup scampered to his feet and ran around him, yipping excitedly. Brenen reached out and rubbed his head.

"Do you mind if I call you Blaze?" Brenen asked, tickling the pup's underbelly. The animal cocked his head with a questioning grunt. His ears pricked up as he heard a soft howl. He rolled to his feet and ran off into the woods.

Brenen rose to his feet and walked homewards with a thoughtful expression on his face.

* * *

Realn Thranduilion rolled the crystal ball between his hands, watching the light catch in the depths of the stone. He looked up as Brenen's fingers closed over it and jerked it out of his hands. Brenen rolled onto his back and held up the ball to the candlelight flickering above them.

"Give it back!" Realn demanded, clenching his fists.

"Ada said we have to share it," Brenen said sweetly.

"You snatched it from me! Give it back!" Realn made a grab at the ball.

Brenen held the back out of reach. "Come and get it!"

Realn threw himself on his brother, shoving Brenen to the floor with one hand and reaching for the ball with the other. It fell from Brenen's grasp and rolled across the carpet, coming to rest at the edge of the blazing hearth. Realn hurled himself upon it but Brenen reached it first and danced out of the way, teasing his brother.

"You will never have it! You spend all your time inside while I play in the woods. I am faster then you! Catch me if you can!"

Realn's eyes blazed. "Give it back to me!" He hurled himself on Brenen, landing at his feet. He grabbed his brother's ankle and jerked him to the floor. Overwhelming rage overtook him. His fingers tore at Brenen's hair and clawed at his face. Brenen's screams and sobs of pain were drowned out by his own furious screeching.

"I hate you! I will hate you for the rest of my life!"

The door to the room flew open and running feet dashed across the floor. Realn heard an exclamation of horror before a hand closed over his upper arm and hauled him away from his bleeding brother. Hissing and spitting, he fought against the grip, trying to reach for Brenen but the hand held him fast.

As the red began to fade from his vision, he saw his mother kneeling on the floor by Brenen, holding him in her arms and gently calming him. Blood trickled from his brother's face and clumps of his hair lay on the floor. Brenen sobbed into his Cinwe's arms. "Shh, shh, it is all right. Lie still and let me wipe the blood away."

Realn looked up into the angry eyes of his father, cringing at the fury he saw there. Thranduil held him tightly by his upper arm. Realn looked away. He saw Legolas and Mykar standing in the doorway, staring at him from identical faces, eyes wide. His eyes trailed across the floor and fell on the shattered crystal ball, broken in the fight. Hot tears filled his eyes.

"I hate him," he said again, glaring at his fallen brother. "I wish he was dead!"

Thranduil dragged him out of the room after a brief consultation with his wife. Realn went without resistance, not caring how his father punished him. Thranduil opened the door to his bedchamber and gave Realn a hard push into the room. Entering behind his son, he slammed the door and leaned against it with a heavy sigh.

"I will not hear you speak like that about your brother," Thranduil said, facing his defiant son. "What is more, I will not see you fighting like that ever again! You could have killed or blinded him!"

"I wish I had!" Realn spat.

Thranduil's hand went back in an instinctive reaction. Realn closed his eyes, in anticipation of the slap but it never came. He cracked his eyes open and saw Thranduil draw in a deep breath as he let his hand fall. Thranduil knelt by his son and looked into Realn's smoldering eyes.

"Would you like to tell me what happened?"

Realn bit his lip, unprepared for the gentleness in his father's voice and the concern in his eyes. "I-I—he took the crystal ball from me and he would not give it back. I tried to take it back from him but he would not let me have it. My anger overwhelmed me and I attacked him. I could not stop myself . . . I hate him! He—he broke it!" Tears welled up in Realn's eyes.

Thranduil grasped Realn by the shoulders and pulled the elfling into a tight embrace. Realn sobbed into his chest, his hands curled into fists.

"I was unaware it meant so much to you," Thranduil said, patting Realn's back.

"It meant more to me then any of my brothers," Realn sobbed. "They liked it because it was a pretty toy. I loved it because it—it kept me calm."

"Kept you calm? In what way?"

Realn's sobs turned into small cries. His cheek still pressed to Thranduil's chest, he answered, "I have felt this way before; when I am teased or I want something no one will give me, I begin to feel the same overwhelming anger. But if I hold onto the crystal and look at it, my anger fades. If I do not hold it, then—you saw what happened." A tear trickled down his wet cheek.

Thranduil contemplated the meaning of his son's words. It sounded like Realn suffered from sever anger attacks. "Why have you never told me?"

Realn sniffed and shook his head. "I-it never occurred to me—I thought you might stop loving me if you knew I could not control myself," he blurted.

Those words alone stabbed Thranduil's heart. He held Realn a little tighter. "Realn, I will never stop loving you; never! You could have killed Brenen and I will still love you."

At the sound of his brother's name, Realn burst into tears again. "I am sorry I hurt him. I did not mean to—it just happened. I am truly sorry. He will never forgive me. He will hate me forever!"

Thranduil looked over his shoulder as the door creaked open. Brenen, Legolas, and Mykar were the first to enter. Cinwe stood behind them, her arms folded. The blood had been wiped from Brenen's face, where Realn's fingernails had raked long marks. He grinned crookedly at Realn as he crossed the room.

"It is all right, Realn. I should not have snatched the ball. I am sorry."

"I-I am sorry I hurt you," Realn stammered, tears welling up in his eyes. "I-I could not stop myself." He turned away to hide the desperate tears streaming down his cheeks but Brenen, Legolas, and Mykar buried him in a deep hug.

Thranduil rose to his feet and retreated to the side of his wife. Cinwe turned to look at him. "I hope you have given him a suitable punishment."

"In this situation, that would be cruel," Thranduil replied.

"He attacked his brother and wounded him," Cinwe insisted.

"He had no control over his actions," Thranduil said. He paused, "Not when they have anger attacks."

Cinwe's widened eyes swung to her four hugging sons. "Anger attacks?"

"Yes. The only thing to do is give him another crystal ball."

"And tell his brothers not to tease him," Cinwe added.

Thranduil saw Realn's wet eyes turn to him from above his brother's blonde heads. He gave a weak smile and a grateful nod of his head before he buried his face in Brenen's shoulder again.

"We will tell them at dinner," Thranduil said.


	3. Realn's Problem?

"Your ada and I have something to tell you," Cinwe said, rising to her feet. The table held empty dishes with food scraps remaining. The quadruplets looked up at their mother, setting down their forks.

Thranduil set down his wine cup and stood up. "It concerns Realn."

Realn cringed low in his seat, his face burning as his brothers turned to look at him with curiosity. He felt lower then an animal. Once his brothers knew about his anger attacks, they would tease him and taunt him. He knew his brothers would find it funny.

"Your brother has a delicate disposition," Thranduil said carefully. "Teasing and taunting upset him more then normal people, like you, and he loses control of his temper. I am asking you not to tease your brother for it will make him angry."

Realn cringed even lower. If he was not normal, then what was he?

"I will not tease him," Brenen said. He looked around at his brothers. "And I will not let any of them tease him either!"

"Legolas?" said Cinwe, glancing anxiously at Realn.

"I will be nice to him," Legolas volunteered.

"Mykar?"

"I will do what ada asks," Mykar said with a smile.

Thranduil relaxed back into his chair. "Thank you."

Realn's face burned redder as he heard his brothers' words. He shoved his chair back and fled from the room with a small sob. He did not want to be pitied or treated like a delicate object that could be shattered. He wanted to be strong and controlled, like ada. Ada could have hit him in his anger but he had not because he could control himself. He, Realn, would never be like his father. Never. He would never be like his brothers or his mother. He would always be a coward and a weakling.

Blinded by tears, Realn crashed into a wall and collapsed on the floor, crying. He felt Cinwe's slender hand on his shoulder and looked up into his mother's eyes. After a moment, he crawled into her lap and buried his face in her shoulder. She sat on the floor with him in her arms, patting his back as Thranduil came up behind her, followed by his wide-eyed quadruplets.

"We are not ashamed of you, Realn," Thranduil said, his voice soft as he knelt down by his wife. "We love you, ion nin, as much as we love your brothers. Nothing you do will ever change that."

Realn felt a tear slid down his face. He clenched his hands into fists. "I-I know but—but I still f-feel terrible af-after what you said at d-dinner. It ma-made me feel l-like n-nothing."

"I am sorry," Thranduil apologized, running a hand over Realn's hair. "I did not realize it would hurt you so much. Will you forgive me?"

Realn nodded as he started to cry again. "I love you, ada."

"I love you to, Realn." As Realn reached for his embrace from Cinwe's lap, Thranduil gave it, murmuring in his son's ear, "Your mother and I have something for you."

Realn sniffed. He did not feel like he deserved any gift. He sat up straight as Mykar stepped up to him and held out a box made of carved wood. Thranduil moved back to give him room to open it. Casting a suspicious look at his parents, Realn eased the lid off the box, and almost dropped it. Sitting in the center of a red velvet cushion was a round ball of clear crystal, containing a live flame.

"Where—how—I," Realn stammered.

"Ellhamier and I made it a long time ago, before you were born," Thranduil explained with a smile. "He bent crystal rock around my flame to preserve it. Keep it with you, Realn, and when you feel angry, hold onto it and let it calm you."

"But I cannot take it if Ellhamier gave it to you," Realn said weakly, staring with longing at the beautiful jewel.

"I am giving it to you," Thranduil said. "It is yours now, and I know you will take good care of it."

Realn swallowed. "I promise, ada. Thank you both." He looked up at his mother. "So much."

Cinwe squeezed Realn in a tight hug. "You are welcome. Now what say you to returning to the table and eating dessert?"

Realn slid the lid back over the box and held the precious box in a tight grip as he rose to his feet. Holding onto Cinwe's hand, he followed her back to the table. Thranduil herded Brenen, Legolas, and Mykar in the direction of the door. "Come on or the ice cream will melt and Galion will never let us live up to it."

"Will Realn be all right?" Mykar asked anxiously, looking up at his father.

"Of course he will. In fact, he is better already and, if we do not hurry along, he will eat all the ice cream!" Thranduil teased, grinning as his identical sons charged ahead of him with worried expressions.


	4. A Handful To Raise

Legolas scrunched his pillow between his hands, shuddering as a crash of lightning sounded overhead. He pulled the blankets over his head and curled into a small, shivering ball. He whimpered as a blue streak of lightning lit up the room, visible through cracks in the blankets. His lip trembled with misery as he wished he were safe in bed with his brothers or even ada and naneth. How he regretted asking ada for a room of his own. It was true he was tired of sharing the space of his old room with his brothers and he wanted to be alone but he never realized how he much he liked to be not alone.

Legolas shivered again, wishing Brenen or Mykar were sleeping next to him so he could snuggle against them and remember he was safe. But here he was, alone in a big room and empty bed, with thunder screaming over head, winds howling, and lightning lighting up the room. he squeezed his eyes shut, not daring to leave the sanctuary and stuffy heat he found under the blanket. He dared no cross the cold, dark room and find ada. He could not return to his quadruplets for they would tease him. He had to stay here, alone until morning.

Without realizing it, tears slipped down his cheeks. He clenched the pillow he was hugging to his chest and muffled his small cries in it. He let out a scream as a hand touched his shoulder, struggling to throw off the blankets. He gasped on the fresh cold air as he emerged, eyes wide and wet. A fork of lightning sliced across the sky right outside the window and he howled, instinctively shrinking back into Cinwe's arms.

"Oh, you poor thing," Cinwe crooned. "It is all right; me and your ada are here now. Nothing will hurt you while we are here."

Thranduil looked a little sternly at his son, remembering the whining Legolas had done, the nagging and persuasion Legolas had employed to get his own room. But, as Legolas's body stiffened with another cringe of fear and Cinwe looked at him with sad eyes, Thranduil softened and climbed onto the bed.

No sooner had he lain down and let Cinwe place Legolas in his arms then the door creaked open and three pale faces peeked in. Cinwe, half underneath the blankets but still sitting up, exclaimed, "What are you doing here? Back to bed! At once!"

"Oh, so he gets all the sympathy?" Realn said indignantly. "I like that!"

"Realn," said Cinwe with a warning look in her eyes.

"And he gets his own room!" Brenen added.

Mykar said meekly, "It is not the same without Legolas. We do not feel as safe when he is not there, and we knew he must be having a terrible time of the thunder so we came to be together."

"But we will go back to bed and cry ourselves to sleep now," Brenen said, affecting to turn on his heel with an injured expression.

Cinwe sighed. "Come in here, all of you, and come to bed. You might as well stay here now."

Brenen lost his forlorn expression in an instant, Realn brightened, and Mykar grinned. Cinwe went down under the combined efforts of her children.

"I told you they would be a handful to raise," Thranduil said drowsily as the elflings settled together into the bed.

"But not bad at all," Cinwe said, running a hand over the blonde head beside her.


	5. Inheritance

Brenen sat by the blazing fire, studying with great care the complex set of interlocking blocks before him. The blocks had come in a perfect triangle. Pulling them apart had been no trouble but putting them back together was sure to be a challenge. He wished he had kept it together to study before he pulled it apart.

"I have often told you are to hasty," Thranduil said from the depths of the armchair.

Brenen frowned. "Oh, I will put it back together."

"Maybe seven hundred years from now!" Mykar snickered. He lay on his stomach on the carpet, reading the book under his nose. Now he glanced up at his brother's plight.

Brenen frowned. "If you think you can do better then me, come and try!"

Mykar diverted his eyes to the pages in front of him. "Nothing doing. It is your problem."

Brenen ground his teeth. "You read your book and let me concentrate!"

"Sir," said Mykar.

Thranduil glanced over the top of his book to make sure his sons were not about to fly at each other's throats before he returned to reading. He heard Brenen grumbling to himself as he stared at the wooden blocks before him and hoped Mykar would refrain from another touchy comment. Mykar remained in silence.

"I give up," Brenen said at last. "In fact, I bet you cannot put it back together, ada."

Thranduil said calmly, "I can, but I intend not to prove it to you. Put the blocks into a box to keep them from being lost."

Brenen reached for the blocks and, as he did so, the flames from the fire in the hearth rushed out of the grate and onto his hands. Brenen let out a scream. "Ada! Help!"

Mykar grabbed up his book and retreated back as Brenen's hair and clothes and face lit up. He shrieked in terror as the carpet caught flame as Brenen rolled around, trying to put the fire out. "Ada! Do something! Quick! He will die!" Tears started to roll down his face.

Thranduil's eyebrows shot into his hairline but he made no move to leave his chair. With great care he laid aside his book and regarded his son. "Brenen, does it hurt?"

"Of course it hurts!" Brenen howled. "It is fire, all over me! Burning me to death! Use your bending!"

Mykar shrieked as the fire leapt from Brenen to him, crawling up his face and arms. The book in his hands dropped to the floor.

"Does it hurt?" Thranduil asked again.

"Yes!" Brenen screeched. Then he paused, looking puzzled, "Well, no, actually."

Thranduil shook his head; the things fear would so were really amazing. With a sweep of his hand he cleared the fire from the floor and carpet, pushing it back into the hearth. His sons continued to burn but Mykar stopped screaming. He rose to his feet and approached his son.

"You have nothing to fear, either of you. The fire is your friend. Embrace it, feel the heat inside of you."

"Did you feel like this when you first got your bending?" Mykar asked, his lips trembling.

"I almost killed my nephew," Thranduil replied. "You are lucky; I did not have my father to help me."

Mykar leaned into Thranduil's embrace, looking frightened. The fire spread to Thranduil as Brenen joined him in the hug. Thranduil could feel his sons trembling and he hurried to assure them they would be fine.

"I will be here to help you learn to control yourselves, and you will all have each other," Thranduil comforted, planting kisses on his sons' brows.

"Do you think Legolas and Realn can bend to?" Brenen asked suddenly.

"I should think so," Thranduil said with a smile. "We will know when Cinwe brings them home."

Brenen looked at his hands with sudden interest. "When will we begin our training?"

"Soon," Thranduil assured him.

"Will you hurt us?" Brenen asked with a slight tremor in his voice, his head bent down. "You could if you wanted to, could you not?"

Thranduil sat speechless for a good sixty seconds. "What evil would posses me to hurt you? Have I ever hurt you in any way? Have I ever hit you or burned you? Have I?"

"No, ada," Brenen said meekly. He looked up. "I am sorry; my doubt was ill felt." He smiled, thinking of the many times ada had made dancing elves and dragons out of his fire to amuse his sons. There had been a time when he and his brothers had stayed back and watched the fire, knowing it would burn, but now they could join in.

Thranduil placed a hand over Brenen's slender one and patted it. the thin line of flames dancing over his son began to diminish as the door to the sitting room opened and two muddy elflings accompanied by an equally muddy wife entered the room.

Cinwe shut the door and leaned back against it, apparently spent from the muddy activities she had been engaged in. As she looked up, never too tired to find a smile for her husband, her words froze on her lips. Legolas and Realn were equally speechless, motionless in their headlong rush to hug their father and tell him about the fun they had.

"Herven nin," said Cinwe finally, "What transpires here?"

"We are not hurt, naneth," Brenen said. "We can fire bend, like ada, and he will begin to teach us how to control it . . . soon."

"I see," said Cinwe, looking at her flaming sons.

Realn and Legolas found their voices, immediately demanding with eagerness, "Can we fire bend to, ada? Can we? Can we?"

"Perhaps," said Thranduil. He beckoned the two elflings closer. "We will soon know."

"Be careful," Cinwe warned wearily.

"You can trust me with our children," Thranduil assured her.

As Realn approached his two brothers, the fire spread from Brenen and Mykar to him, crawling across his chest without burning him or his clothes. It hissed as it met the wet mud. Like his brothers, Realn let out a brief yell of initial alarm.

"It feels good," Realn said. "It sort of tickles." He giggled.

"Each one of you will feel it differently," Thranduil said.

Legolas moved closer to his brothers, steeling himself for the feel of the flames. He could feel the heat but the fire ignored him, licking at his brothers, dancing oblivious to his presence. Legolas held out his hand to touch the flame and jerked it back with a small cry of pain. He felt ada's hand slip around his waist a pull him close.

"I-it hurt," Legolas whimpered, holding his burned fingers. A tear trickled down his cheek. He avoided his brothers somewhat surprised faces.

Cinwe rushed to her son, kissing the injured fingers. "Oh dear, oh dear. It is only a little burn, tithen las; do not cry."

Legolas's wet eyes met his mother's imploring ones, so full of love. He burst into tears and buried his face in her neck. "I-I cannot fire bend."

Thranduil joined Legolas in the hug. He had been afraid of this. He had wished with all his heart all of his sons would be able to fire bend or none at all to avoid broken hearts. But now the nightmare had happened and Legolas found himself separated from his brothers by his inability to fire bend and farther away from the father he loved so much, separated by the breach.

"I cannot bend either," Cinwe said softly, holding her son close. "You and me will spend much time together. I am glad to have one son to me at least."

But this did not comfort Legolas. He wanted with all his heart to be a part of the life his brothers would enter into under his father's guidance but found himself rejected and the doors shut in his face. He sobbed and shook his head.

Thranduil met his wife's stricken eyes as he stroked Legolas's hair.

"It is all right," Brenen said coaxingly, hoping to cheer his brother. "You can watch us fire bend with ada."

"All right," Legolas said in a small voice.

Thranduil rose to his feet with a small sigh of despair. What else could he do? Fate had taken from his hands what he wanted to control.

"We will begin lessons tomorrow," Thranduil said quietly. He did not miss the lonely look in Legolas's eyes as his son glanced up at him, tears still on his cheeks. Thranduil knelt down to dry the damp, saying gently, "It will be all right, Legolas, you will see."

But in his heart he wondered if indeed things would be all right.


	6. Alone In The Shadows

"Now, Brenen, we will start with you," Thranduil said. "Face me with your palms out. Bend your elbows half way. Very good."

Realn and Mykar watched with interest the proceedings. The walled courtyard had a hard packed dirt floor and the trees grew yards away from the high stone walls. Low benches were set into the stone walls and an iron gate provided the only entry. Realn and Mykar sat on one bench and Legolas sat alone on another. Standing by the gate was a tall elf with black hair and a saucy expression. His eyes glistened with fun, his chest was thrust out with pride, and his arms were folded as he watched Thranduil.

"Stop smirking, Ellhamier!" Thranduil said, throwing the elf a look. "I cannot concentrate!"

"This scene is to enjoyable to miss; you, shooting fire at your sons!" Ellhamier replied. "You ought to be grateful to me for making you this practice yard."

Thranduil frowned and turned back to Brenen, assuming the same stance. "Now, we will take this nice and slow. Catch the ball and throw it back to me." As he spoke, a small ball of fire flamed to life in the air in front of Thranduil's fingers. A slight shove of his palms and the ball sailed across the air toward Brenen.

"Concentrate," Thranduil said anxiously.

Brenen swallowed, his eyes fixed on the ball as it came closer. He felt the heat as it neared, lighting up his palms, and the movement of the fire entered his body. He wrapped his mind around the feeling and gave a small push of his hands, sending the ball soaring toward Thranduil.

"Well done," Thranduil said. "Practice doing it on your own. Push the ball out and recall it to you while I show Realn how to do it."

Brenen replied not as he bit his lip in concentration. The red ball moved at his command, coming toward him and flying out again. As he moved his arms to make the ball move in wider lines, his elbows began to ache but he ignored the ache and continued his activities. Realn stepped into Thranduil's place in front of him a minute later with his own ball of fire.

"Ada says we are to play elf in the middle as soon as Mykar joins us," Realn said, staring at his ball of fire until it swelled to twice its size.

Brenen blinked, his face splitting into a grin. "Ooh, hurry up, Mykar, do, it is not hard to play a baby's game with a ball of fire! Into the middle so we can play!"

Mykar stepped into the space between his two brothers. "I am ready. But watch out! Fire has a strong attraction to me!"

Thranduil stood to one side, watching Realn and Brenen attempt to lob their balls of flame over Mykar's blonde head, studying the movement of their bodies. He smiled at their flushed cheeks and bright eyes. But while he reveled in the joyous activities of three sons, he failed and forgot about the miserable, teary-eyed elfling hunched in his seat, huddled back against the wall, trying to shut out the sounds of which he could not be a part of or add to.

Legolas sat alone, wiping his runny nose on the back of his sleeve. Watching his brothers brought sad tears to his eyes. Never had he felt so rejected and unhappy. Without his brothers, he was not whole, but they had stepped beyond his reach. He slid off the bench and dragged himself out of the courtyard, giving Ellhamier a shy glance as he passed. But even Ellhamier had forgotten him, for he was encouraging Mykar to catch the flaming ball.

Legolas walked away from the shouts of laughter and screams of joy. The sun made the day bright but the unhappiness in his heart dimmed it for him. On the narrow path, he walked under a stand of trees. At the base of an oak, he stopped and climbed into its branches. Out of sight among the leaves, he nestled against the tree trunk, rested his forehead on his knees and cried.

The days passed slowly for Legolas. Thranduil worked in his office during the morning and spent most of the afternoon with his three brothers, out in the courtyard. Only in the evening, after a dinner filled with excited talk of the day's fire-bending lessons, did Legolas have ada all to himself. But even then ada was not the same. Ada's eyes were bright with happiness he could not contribute to and he seemed so far away . . . even Cinwe left him to watch her sons fire-bend as the weeks past. It happened so gradually; neither Thranduil nor Cinwe thought Legolas would mind. Everything was centered on his three brothers while he lived in the shadow, alone and forgotten.

* * *

"I think Legolas needs something to do," Cinwe said to her husband, sipping her wine. The quadruplets were asleep in their beds; she and Thranduil sat in the glow of the firelight in the sitting room.

"Quite," agreed Thranduil. "He needs something to learn, even if it cannot be fire bending."

"If he learns of Middle Earth's history and languages and lore, he could potentially become king," Cinwe suggested. "While his brothers are occupied with other things, he might start learning of such things now."

Thranduil considered the idea and found it appealing. It would give Legolas something to do while his brothers were away and prepare him for the potential responsibilities of the crown. He brightened as he thought eventually Legolas could help him in the office.

"I will find him a private tutor," Thranduil said, drinking down the last of his wine. "He will, I think, find it nice to have something of his own to do and talk about at dinner."

"Yes," said Cinwe. "And maybe he will learn also the price of failure."

* * *

Legolas looked at the elf before him. Eigil had black hair and yellow eyes but he gave off an aura Legolas could feel and did not like. He held onto Thranduil's hand and squirmed with discomfort.

"This is Master Eigil and he will be your teacher, ion nin," Thranduil said. "He will teach you many things you will find very useful later on in life. Your lessons begin tomorrow morning after breakfast at nine o' clock and last until three in the afternoon. You take a break for lunch."

Legolas looked uncertainly at Eigil. The elf smiled at him but the smile never reached his eyes.

"Now, I hope you will respect and obey Eigil, Legolas, for his only wish is to help you learn. He is here to help you in any difficulty."

"Yes, ada," Legolas said meekly.

Thranduil nodded to Eigil, who returned the nod, and stepped out of the room with Legolas. At dinner that night, everyone was brimming with excitement about his teacher. Legolas fidgeted in his seat, not sure he wanted to find out what the next day would be like.

"Are you not excited?" Mykar asked. "Think of all the things you will learn!"

"I would rather learn to fire bend with you," Legolas mumbled indecipherably.

"You can tell us all about you day tomorrow," Brenen said, forking down his food with such rapidity he earned a look of disgust from his mother.

"Yes," said Legolas faintly.

"We will all have ice cream to celebrate," Cinwe broke in, smiling at Legolas. "There is no need to be shy, little leaf, Eigil will be a good teacher, I am sure."

The ice cream tasted surprisingly bland to Legolas as he ate it but without the eagerness his brothers displayed. He slept in his own room alone, no longer afraid of the dark but unable to sleep with his brothers while they chattered about fire bending and further tore at his heart.

And so his lessons began.


	7. The Lies Begin

"Your father hates you," Eigil said.

Legolas started, his pen slashing a careless line across his paper. "He does not!"

"Oh, but he does, little leaf," Eigil said in a low voice, he eyes gleaming as he circled Legolas's desk with his hands behind his back. "King Thranduil despises you for the failure you are; you cannot fire bend! He is disgraced by you, and so he gave you to me to train and teach and punish for the sight of you brings a bitter feeling to his heart."

Legolas jumped to his feet. "You lie! Ada does not hate me for anything!"

Eigil's hand lashed out, striking Legolas across the cheek. "You will not speak to me in such a manner! I am your Master and you will show me the respect you would show your father, the respect your father told you to give me, or you will be punished!"

Legolas took a step back, surprise and fear showing in his eyes. Eigil smiled. He said, "Ah, Legolas, your father wanted to punish you for your failure. He wanted to burn a mark of shame onto your body. But he could not bring himself to do it. King Thranduil ordered me to punish you for any disobedience, any childishness, any foolish actions and . . . any failed lessons. Your father has said you are a wild, uncontrolled animal. You must learn to behave yourself, and it is my job to teach you."

Legolas swallowed. No! This could not be happening!

"I have been ordered to punish you now for your failure to fire bend," Eigil said.

"Why now?" Legolas demanded. "It has been three weeks since I started taking lessons! Why has he waited?"

Eigil hand slapped his cheek. "You will not contradict me and you will not answer back when a question is not asked!"

"You have no right to hit me!" Legolas cried.

"I am doing only as your father has commanded," Eigil spat. "And, by permission granted to me by your father, I have every right to hit you!" He slapped the elfling again. "Finish you lessons!"

Legolas sat down with fury in his heart. He would tell his father of this. Ada would never let anyone treat him like this!

But had his father not said . . . "Now, I hope you will respect and obey Eigil, Legolas, for his only wish is to help you learn. He is here to help you in any difficulty."? A shred of doubt entered Legolas's heart. What if Eigil spoke the truth?

Eigil saw the doubt and played off it. "I know you do not believe me, but I would not confront your father. If you awaken his anger further, he might injure you seriously.

A tiny dot of fear showed in Legolas's eyes. He tossed his head and returned to the sheet of paper before him on the desk. Eigil smiled. He walked away from Legolas with his hands behind his back and sat down at his desk facing Legolas. He waited until Legolas rose and handed him the finished sheets of his history quiz. Legolas returned to his seat and waited while Eigil checked his work.

Eigil let out a small sigh but his eyes gleamed with happiness. "I am afraid, Legolas, some of your answers are not correct. Therefore I will have to punish you."

Legolas was not sure what Eigil meant or what he would do to him but an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach and his heart fluttered.

"There is a respectful way to receive this punishments, Legolas," Eigil continued. "For punishment is essentially another form of a lesson. Kneel on your hands and knees in front of me."

Legolas hesitated. Kneel?

"I said kneel," Eigil said, his voice cold. "You will obey me."

"No one but my father can order me to kneel," Legolas said, lifting his chin.

"I am acting on your father's behalf," Eigil said. "King Thranduil is too busy to be bothered with punishing his son. Now kneel!"

"No!" Legolas spat.

Eigil circled the stubborn Prince. A tremor ran through Legolas's body. Eigil waited, letting the dread and fear play with Legolas's mind. Then, when Legolas thought he would escape unpunished, he struck! The whip slithered across Legolas's back, leaving a welt of stinging pain. Legolas gasped and stumbled to his knees under the force of the cruel blows. Eigil put his muscle into the whip, drinking in the scent of blood and Legolas's small whimpers. After so many years of careful restraint and longing, to punish the royal elfling was sweet indeed. Eigil whipped Legolas without mercy until Legolas writhed beneath him, screaming out in agony. His eyes lolled back and his fainted into the stain of his own blood against the floor.

Eigil stepped back with the cruel smile and sat at his desk, arms folded, to wait for Legolas's awakening.

Legolas awake with a groan. He remembered the burning pain and what Eigil had done with his heart in the panicked grip of his fear. Eigil had punished him . . . and his father had commanded it. Tears choked his eyes. He could not believe his father would have Eigil hurt him with such brutality. It could not be true! But . . . ada had not spent much time with him recently; he was always with his quadruplets. Bitterness filled Legolas's heart. Ada had no wish to be with his failure of a son! He was so disgusted with him; he could not even look at him. The tears rolled down as his cheeks as he wished with all his heart he could fire-bend and have ada's love again.

"Get up and return to your room," Eigil said, his voice hard. "You will dress in dark clothes from now on; a symbol of your pathetic failure and unworthiness. If you disobey me, I will punish you. Here is your homework; now leave!"

Legolas climbed slowly to his feet, his limbs trembling. He approached the desk and took the sheaf of papers Eigil handed him. With a jerky nod of his head, he departed for his room. He sat down on his bed, the papers dropping limply from his hand, and tried to think things through. Ada had ordered Eigil to punish him for being a failure, and Legolas knew he was. He had seen ada drift away from him and wondered why. Now he knew.

Legolas half-rose to ask his father if he was angry with him for being a failure and if Eigil was allowed to punish him with the whip then sank down on the bed again. If it was true, asking might infuriate ada further. He could not ask ada; he was alone in his misery and confusion.

* * *

"How was your first day of school?" Thranduil asked Legolas, leaning forward to see his son's pale face.

Legolas fiddled with his fork. "I-it passed well, I think. I did my best."

Thranduil sat back with a smile. "And that is all I will ever ask."

Legolas glanced up at his father, feeling the sting of the whiplashes on his shoulder. Ada sounded so kind and loving. He did not sound disgusted or angry at all. But he knew Thranduil could mask his emotions and control himself very well.


	8. Dark Solitude

Thranduil had noticed Legolas's dark clothes for a while now but never questioned it. Now, as Legolas sat down at the dinner table, Cinwe looked at her son with curiosity.

"Have you lost your taste for bright colors?" Cinwe asked Legolas, reaching to cover Legolas's hand with hers. "You have been wearing dark colors for ten days now."

Legolas pulled his hand away and stared down at his plate. "No . . . I-I feel like dressing in dark colors right now, naneth. It is not anything; a mere passing fantasy."

"It sets off the color of your hair," Cinwe said with a smile. "I like it."

As the plates went around and everyone began to eat, Thranduil said, "Eigil has told me you are studying hard and dutifully and learning well. I am pleased with your progress."

 _What else can I do besides study hard and learn well_? Legolas thought, his heart heavy with grief. _Eigil will punish me if I do otherwise_.

"Hannon le, ada," he said aloud. "I find learning a conservative way to spend time."

"Well, idleness is not high on the list of good pastimes," Thranduil agreed with a smile. "I am happy you like learning, Legolas, very happy indeed."

Legolas moved his food around on his plate, unable to understand his father's attitude. It made Eigil's words sound like a lie. But elves never lied, did they? Or maybe ada cared so little for him, the whippings caused no stirrings of compassion in his disappointed heart . . .

"We have been learning many new things," Brenen spoke up. "We learned how to do a fire cone! It was so invigorating!"

"Yes, and you all did remarkably well," Thranduil agreed. "Although Realn is prone to explode."

"I am working on controlling myself," Realn said with a blush. "My anger escapes into the fire and makes it so wild."

"So long as you do not burn yourself," Cinwe said.

After dinner ended, Legolas dragged himself to his room and sat down at his desk, staring with dissatisfaction at the pile of homework before him. As he picked up his pen and prepared to dip it into his ink, he heard footsteps. Turning, his heart sank as his father walked in.

"I noticed you looked ill when you left the table," Thranduil said, "Is there something you need to tell me?"

"N-no, ada," Legolas stammered. "I-I have homework to do, that is all."

"Do you not wish to come join us in the family room?"

"Not until after I finish my lessons," Legolas answered, his eyes seeing a long life of darkness and solitude before him.

"As I said, I have been told you are doing well in your lessons but is the work to much for you?" Thranduil asked, running a gentle hand over his son's hair.

Legolas stammered, "N-no—I-I must finish my work, ada. P-please leave me alone?"

Thranduil hesitated, seeing the urgency in Legolas's eyes. After a moment he stepped away from his son and walked from the room, wishing not to disrespect Legolas's request. As he walked away, he had the distinct feeling he was doing the wrong thing.

Legolas's tense body relaxed as his father stepped from the room and he dropped his head onto the desk surface with a small sigh as tears welled up in his eyes. He heard footsteps and looked up, a small cry of fear escaping him. Eigil stood a few feet behind him, arms crossed, his whip tucked under one arm.

"I saw your father a few minutes ago," Eigil said, grasping the whip handle and allowing it to hang limp in his grasp. "He said you behaved with disrespect toward him, and he is displeased with you. Take off your shirt."

Legolas obeyed without question. After ten days of whippings, he had learned to do as Eigil said or suffer even more brutal consequences. He lifted his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. He rose to his feet from the chair and faced his master.

"Turn around and kneel," Eigil said.

Legolas closed his eyes as he dropped to his knees. Something about this felt so wrong, and he hated being treated like an animal. But there was nothing he could do, no one he could turn to for help.

Eigil eyed Legolas's back. Bandages covered the weeping, oozing wounds, he knew, but the bandages would soon be gone. He brought the whip down. Legolas gasped, burying his face in his hands as the lash slashed across his skin. The burn of the whip and the whine of the wicked instrument were familiar sounds to him now.

"I am sorry I showed ada such disrespect," Legolas cried, twisting under the whipping. "I will be more careful. It will not happen again! I swear it!"

Eigil stepped back, panting. Blood dripped to the floor from the whip. "Good."

Legolas remained on the floor until Eigil had stridden from the room. He crawled to his feet, feeling sick and dizzy. He pulled out the top drawer of his bureau and removed a roll of bandages. He was all to well familiar with the task of cleaning and dressing his wounds. When the task was complete, he sank down at his desk and picked up his pen.

It was noticeable his hand shook and his fingers trembled as he worked his way through the sheets, his mind on his family sitting in the family room, laughing and joking, talking about fire-bending while he worked alone, in exile, unable to be a part of the life he so longed for. He wiped at his watering eyes and nose frequently as he scribbled answers, trying to stop the grief in his heart from materializing, but it was no use, for the pain in his back only reminded him of it with every dull ache.


	9. Fainting

Thranduil paced up and down the length of his room, playing with a ball of fire. Cinwe sat in the armchair, her hands clasped in her lap.

"You have noticed how tired Legolas looks," she said.

Thranduil nodded. "Yes. I fear he is having bad dreams."

"Or studying too hard," Cinwe added. "I saw light coming from his room. Tell him to sleep. I will be waiting for you when you return. Tuck him, will you?"

Thranduil dropped his hand and the ball of fire fizzled out. He stepped out of the room and walked up the hall to Legolas's door. He knew Brenen, Realn, and Mykar were cuddled together in their bed and their candles were out. He knocked on the door and waited in silence for a reply. Receiving no reply after the second knock, he opened the door and walked into the room. A pitying smile came to his lips. Legolas was fast asleep, his head resting on a pile of papers. The quill had fallen from his hands to the floor. Legolas's fingers had knocked over a bottle of red ink and the liquid had run down his shirt.

Thranduil placed a hand on Legolas's shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. His son awoke with a jump, stuttering and stammering, wiping his hands on his shirt. "I-I-ada?"

"Come to bed, ion nin," Thranduil said with a smile.

Legolas bowed his head. What could he do? Ada would burn the flesh from his bones if he disobeyed. But Eigil would punish him if he did not complete his homework—his homework! Oh, no, no, no!

A small cry escaped Legolas. Red ink soaked through his papers, blurring the writing, destroying all his work. There was no time to re-do it. Eigil would—would—dread filled his stomach.

Thranduil regarded his son in puzzlement. Legolas seemed terrified. "Tithen las, Eigil will forgive you if you explain to him what happened. After all, you have been studying hard and I am sure he will understand you knocked over the inkbottle without intention. Now you need a good night's rest."

As he rose from his chair and stumbled toward his bed, Legolas clung to the hope ada's words must be true. Eigil would forgive him. He changed into a clean shirt and climbed into bed. As Thranduil leaned over him to kiss his forehead and tuck the blankets around him, grief welled up inside Legolas. He wished ada would be this kind to him all the time; forbid Eigil from hurting him. He did not understand how ada could display his love for him so openly knowing he had ordered Eigil to beat him.

"Goodnight, little leaf," Thranduil said, as he stepped out of the room and closed the door. "I love you."

The door closed. Legolas dissolved into tears, his confusion erupting in grief. He sobbed into the scrunched up form of his pillow until it was soaked through. In a puddle of salty sadness, he fell asleep, haunted by dreams of another day of torture.

Legolas opened his eyes and squinted at the sunlight filtering through the window. Groaning as he crawled from bed, the wounds on his back stretching, he changed into the dark clothes he so despised but must wear. As he reached out of habit for his homework, his fingers touched empty air. He stopped and remembered the red ink. He swallowed, dreading having to face Eigil yet knowing he must. Clinging to the hope ada's words were true and Eigil would forgive him, Legolas dragged his tired feet to his classroom.

But his hopes were shattered, breaking into red and black. When he tried to explain to Eigil what had happened, his teacher fell upon him, savagely beating him to the floor. Legolas flung up his arms as he fell, curling into a tight ball, tears dripping over his arms and falling to the floor. Eigil had never punished him with such brutality. He begged, he pleaded for Eigil to stop for he could not stand the pain. It caused red and black to swim dizzily in his vision, and sadness to pervade his heart. Ada had lied to him! he lay on the floor, unable to fight back, and sink away into blackness.

Eigil said as Legolas lost consciousness, "Have you no sense? Idiocy is rewarded with punishment! You should have done your homework. You should have stayed awake. I will not tolerate weakness!"

* * *

Legolas shifted as Eigil walked in circles around him. The pain from the savage punishment administered a few days ago for failing to turn in his homework still nagged at him, piercing his heart like a knife. His whole body ached, trembling with exhaustion and pain. And yet still his torture went on.

"Hold still!" Eigil snapped.

"Yes, sir," Legolas said.

"Question Five: Who are the valar?"

Legolas tried hard to focus but sleepiness had dragged him down through the quiz, blurring the answers in his memory. He knew what would happen to him if he failed to answer the question but even his burning fear could not sharpen his mind. His tongue slipped over the explanation.

The whip snapped down. "I am afraid that is not correct," Eigil sad sweetly.

Legolas shuddered. So much pain . . . his feet slipped and the floor rushed up into his face. His body hit something hard, digging into his ribs. He felt wet blood streaming from his nose as he fainted.

Whimpering, Legolas opened his eyes to find himself lying on the floor, the blood from his nose dried beneath him. He groaned as he sat up and blinked. The light of the room was dim and the last rays of evening sunlight filtered through the window. He staggered to his feet and grabbed a hold of the desk before him to keep himself from falling as the world reeled around him.

The dizziness passed and his eyes fell on the pile of papers lying before him. Homework. So much homework. How could he do it all? He glanced around; glad Eigil was not to be seen. A tear sliding down his cheek, he collected the pile and walked to his room. He took each step slowly, to make it worth the agony that exploded in his back. Leaving the papers in his room, he hoped he was not too late for his archery lessons in the field.

Come nightfall, Legolas crawled into his bed and wept. Bitter tears poured down his face. In bed sheets soaked with grief and stained with agony, he fell asleep. But even in sleep, he could not escape his reality. He dreamed of Eigil's savage beating and awoke to wild laughter in his head. With a jolt, he realized he had not done his homework! Despair filled him, pouring out of his eyes. Eigil would flog him again tomorrow! The dread and the urge to escape the punishment forced Legolas out of bed. With shaking fingers, he lit a candle at his desk. How he hated fire. The thought of being burned terrified him, and the knowledge that because he lacked fire, he was a failure tore at him.

Legolas dipped his pen into his inkbottle and wrote out answers to sheet after sheet. The words formed with an effort. The letters blurred beneath his pen. Legolas blinked. His eyes wanted to close; he wanted to sleep. So tired . . . Legolas slumped forward, his cheek smearing the fresh words on the page before him for the ink had yet to dry. His fingers knocked over the candle. It fell sideways as he slept on, setting ablaze a pile of loose paper. The fire rose, licking with pleasure at the walls and floor. The bed went up next.

Legolas awoke as the air grew thick with smoke and the heat was too hot to ignore. He screamed in terror; everywhere there was fire! He fell from his chair, crawling across the burning floor, coughing and choking. He gasped in fresh air as he fell on his face in the hallway. Ada's hands grabbed him and shook him.

"Legolas! Legolas! Tithen las! Are you hurt?"

Legolas blinked, leaning against Thranduil's chest as his father rubbed his back. He felt naneth's hands stroking his hair, whispering softly to him. The fear of answering the question wrong terrified him. Wrong answers were rewarded with punishment. Was he supposed to say he was hurt? Would ada tolerate weakness and injury? Perhaps ada would burn him for giving the wrong answer.

"N-no, ada," Legolas faltered. He hoped he had made the right choice.

Thranduil nodded, kissing Legolas's smoky cheeks. "Thank the valar!" He shifted Legolas to Cinwe's lap and rose to his feet, holding out his arms to embrace the fire burning in his son's room and absorb it into himself. How had the flames begun?

"How did the fire come to commence?" Thranduil asked, kneeling down to his son.

Legolas swallowed, remembering ada's gentle caresses. He looked up into his father's eyes and Cinwe rocked him. "I-I knocked the candle over when I fell asleep . . . I think. I was studying." He could not lie; lying was punished.

"You were . . . studying? At three in the morning? Legolas Greenleaf, what were you thinking? I appreciate the fact you wish to learn but you have crossed the line! Night is for rest! You are not to study at night!"

Legolas cringed in his mother's arms, and she shushed him, running a hand over his ear, sending Thranduil an annoyed look. Legolas felt his heart begin to ache. How would he find time to do all his homework now?

"No, ada, please do not do this to me!"

"End of discussion," Thranduil said. "Would you like to sleep with your brothers?"

"Own room, please," Legolas mumbled.

Cinwe helped him to his feet and guided him to a spare room. He fell into bed and let his mother tuck him in. Alone, he cried without a sound. His homework was destroyed again! Eigil would be furious and he would be punished. He could not do this anymore!

* * *

 **I am afraid you are all going to kill me . . .  
**


	10. Wriggling Free

"Homework," Eigil said, holding out his hand as Legolas entered the small classroom, his eyes dull and tired.

Legolas swallowed. "F-forgive me but I could not do it for my room caught fire and—and it was destroyed."

Eigil rose to his feet, whip in hand, shaking his head. "What a pity. I am sorry but there is only one reward for your actions."

Legolas pleaded with his eyes, his chest growing tight as he struggled to control his mounting fear and dread of the punishment to come. As the whip came down, slicing through his shirt, he cried out and fell to his knees beneath the savage beating, the dull ache he lived with day-by-day exploding into tears in his eyes.

Eigil stepped away from him and wiped the blood from the coils of the whip. Legolas crawled to his feet, seeing spots before his eyes. He stumbled to his desk and collapsed at the seat. As Eigil stood behind his desk, hands clasped behind his back, he said with a wide smile, "Now for a recitation of the homework from yesterday."

The questions came hard and fast. Legolas's pain wracked mind fought against the misty haze, trying to remember the answers and stammering them out. He knew from the shaking of Eigil's head he had failed more then half the answers. In a dizzy haze of pain, he left his daily lessons with a pile of homework. How could he do it all if he could not study at night? He would have to study during the day. How would he find time to do anything else to lessen the ache in his heart?

Teary-eyed, Legolas dragged his feet to the room he was using in replacement of his burned one and dropped the papers he held on his desk. He sat down and picked up his pen, praying ada would not come in and question him. He remembered the tasteless lunch he had eaten before returning to class. He sniffed as he thought of sitting with his brothers and parents. They seemed so far away even while they sat yards and feet away. He dropped his head onto his desk and sobbed, tears running across his homework, staining the pages.

"Studying, little Prince?"

Legolas's head jerked up and he wiped away his tears. Eigil stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, an insane smirk on his lips, his eyes gleaming. Eigil's smirk turned Legolas's grief into bubbling fury. He could not stand the pain his felt and to be sneered at sent him into a well of anger.

"Yes, I am!" he spat.

"Such a shame your father banned your nighttime lessons," Eigil said. "And such a shame to see you wasted like this. Watch your tone."

Legolas's eyes darkened. Normally the casual warning would have put him on his guard but in his anger, he ignored it. Eigil was taunting him, rubbing in the hurt. A rush of anger ripped away his last shreds of self-control.

"I will tell ada!" he screamed, rising from his seat. "Ada will—will stop this method of punishment!"

"What have you been taught about respect?" Eigil snarled, crossing the floor and producing the whip.

Legolas huddled back against the wall, his arms raised to defy the blows about to fall. "I will tell ada! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"

Eigil raised the whip, and then dropped it. He stepped back and smiled, pointing to the door with the whip handle. Legolas dropped his arms and stared at him in confusion, wondering what kind of cruel game this was.

"Very well, Legolas," Eigil said. "Tell your father what I have been doing at your command. Ask him to stop having you punished for something you well deserve. You know how you will be rewarded if you fail to tell your father, as you have said you will for failing would be lying, and lying is punished. We both know, little prince, you are too much of a coward to beg your father from release from justified punishment."

Legolas staggered toward the door. He straightened his shoulders, feeling small and weak, and walked up the hall toward ada's private office. He could do this. He had to. No. He was frightened of what ada would do to him, of what Eigil would do to him. Outside the door to Thranduil's office, he stopped and turned around. He hesitated, not wanting to do what he had so boldly said he would. But the cold look in Eigil's eyes filled him with dread. Eigil would punish him for being a coward and a liar if he could not carry out his threat. The whip would know no mercy. He swallowed and turned, knocking on the door, sheer terror of facing Thranduil making him sick and dizzy.

A small hint of fear came into Eigil's eyes. Surely Legolas would turn back. His courage would fail him. He had been sure Legolas would take the whip over the prospect of facing the father Eigil had led him to believe hated him. If Legolas told Thranduil, he would be in trouble. Big trouble. He stepped forward with more urgency in his strides, and attempted to stop Legolas before it was too late.

"Your father is still angry with you, Legolas," Eigil said. Legolas turned around to face him, his eyes wide. "It was he who set your room on fire to teach you the consequences of being a failure. I know he pretended to care. He saved you before you came to any harm but that is all an illusion. But he may not be so merciful if you ask to be treated as an equal when all you are is nothing." He uttered each word with care, watching them cut into Legolas and make their mark.

Legolas's breath came in gasps and he stepped back against the door, his eyes wide. "No! No! You lie! You lie!"

"I do not lie, Legolas," Eigil said with a pitying smile, coming closer. "I wish I could lie and give you a moment's happiness, but it is all true. Thranduil is a stern father. But I will not be as cruel as your father in punishment for I cannot burn you; melt the very flesh from your bones. Come now and accept you lied to me; that you are a coward, and I will lessen the pain of your punishment. Considerably." He smiled at the cowering elfling.

Tears streamed down Legolas's face. In Eigil's face he saw all the pain that would come his way and he knew he could not turn back now. He had to continue on. But what if ada burned the flesh from his bones?

"Come in!" Thranduil's impatient voice called, causing Legolas to jump in fright. "How many times must I give you permission to enter?"

Legolas turned away from the nightmare lurking behind him and hurled himself through the door, dread burning high within him as he faced a new nightmare, and perhaps an even worst one.

Eigil let out a soft cry, holding out a hand as if he wished to grab Legolas and stop him. "No!" As the door slammed shut, he realized it was all over and he had lost the game. His hands curled into fists and his spat. Legolas had evaded him; behind the doors, with his father, he was safe. And as soon as Thranduil learned of the "punishments" he knew he would be in a bad way. Turning, he strode down the hall, mastering the fury within him as he planned his system of evasion.


	11. Bravery

Legolas leaned back against the door as he closed it with a small sigh of pain. Twenty paces across the floor stood Thranduil's wide, large oaken desk, polished and shining, piled with neat stacks of paper, inkwells, stained quills, a goblet, a bottle of red wine, and candles set in neat rows all along the edges. In a chair behind it sat Thranduil himself, frowning over a paper with a pen poised over the page. He glanced up and Legolas's heart almost stopped from fear.

Thranduil's face softened into a smile and he laid down his pen. "Ion nin, you do not come to see me often while I am working. What can I help you with?"

Legolas hesitated. Ada seemed to unsuspecting and kind and loving. Yet the minute he learned the reason for his visit, he would explode into fury. The thought of searing pain and merciless fire sickened his stomach.

"Legolas?"

"Ada, I-I," Legolas stammered. He stumbled as he approached his father's desk.

Thranduil rose to his feet with speed, worry shaping his face. Legolas looked pale, almost lifeless. Something was wrong.

Legolas clenched his teeth as he gave a jerky bow, the wounds on his back stretching with the movement. "I have—have come to ask you for something."

"There is no need to fear asking me for something," Thranduil said, his voice gentle. "And no need to bow. What it is?"

Legolas stared into his father's eyes, wishing with desperation in his heart Thranduil's words were true. He wanted to beg ada to stop his punishments but dread held the words back. The pain in his back and the need to share it took control of his mouth and, without meaning to, he blurted out, "Please have Eigil stop punishing me. I-I cannot take any more!"

Thranduil's brow ceased. "Eigil is your teacher, Legolas, and if he sees fit to punish you then it is part of his duty as your teacher. But—"

A harsh sob escaped Legolas. He fell on his knees at Thranduil's feet, lifting his pale face to his father's and begging, "No! No! Ada, please, I beg of you, make him stop! I cannot live with this pain! I did not mean to be a failure and a disgrace to you. I am sorry. I am so, so sorry!"

Legolas curled on the floor, his body convulsing with sobs. Eigil had been telling the truth; ada had given him permission to punish him. Cold, heartless cruel. Ada, ada, ada. The last hope that Eigil had been lying to him dissolved into unfriendly blackness.

Thranduil's eyes opened wide in alarm and he dropped to his knees beside Legolas, struggling to contain his mounting panic. He reached toward his son. "Sshhh, Legolas, shh, everything is fine. Calm down, ion nin, please calm down and tell me what is wrong."

Legolas tried to obey his father; he tried to calm down. But the tears kept coming. Sobbing, he thought ada would punish him for disobeying. The fear of being burned turned his stomach into a pool of terror. When Thranduil reached out to embrace him, Legolas misunderstood the action. He cringed back, his vision blurry. Ada was about to punish him now. Ada would touch him. Ada's hands would be hot—so hot. They would melt the flesh from his bones. He backed away from Thranduil, unable to accept the punishment this time. He wanted to run; to flee to safety. But when he tried to run, his body burned in protest and he stumbled back against the wall, crying out as pain jolted his body. The world spun as he collapsed to the floor but he could still make out Thranduil coming toward him. He crawled past the desk and curled in the corner, wrapping his arms around himself and shuddering.

Thranduil's hand landed on his shoulder and Legolas screamed, imaging terrible, searing pain. It took him several minutes to realize the pain existed in his mind and Thranduil's hand was gentle and cool. As Thranduil's fingers brushed his wet cheeks, Legolas turned his confused, frightened gaze to his father's face; tears still streaming from his eyes.

Thranduil's face was white and his eyes pools of worry. He tried to speak but words failed him. His stomach churned at the sight of his trembling, cowering son. Legolas was afraid, his eyes wide. Legolas was afraid and hurt. Legolas was afraid of his father. And Thranduil did not know why but to see his son so weak and vulnerable tore at his heart. He leaned forward and hugged his little leaf to his strong chest, resting his cheek on Legolas's head.

Legolas struggled at first, trying to escape Thranduil's firm grip. As his initial panic faded, his realized Thranduil was not hurting him. He snuffled against ada's chest as he felt fingers stroking his hair.

"What have I done to make you fear me?" Thranduil asked, his voice soft and kind.

Legolas had no wish to answer but he must. It was against the rules not to answer when a question was asked. "I-I thought you were an-angry w-with m-me for b-being a f-f-failure." Tears threatened to choke him.

Thranduil blinked, fighting to understand what Legolas meant. As his confusion and worry threatened to send him into a whirl of panic, he swallowed and said, "Come, little leaf, you are hot and sweaty. You need a cool bath to help you recover your senses. You can tell me everything when you are ready."

Legolas nodded, relief washing over him. He stood up, stumbling against his father, and followed Thranduil through the adjoining door into the large chamber of his parents. He wiped his running eyes, his fear beginning to ebb away. Ada was not like Eigil had led him to believe. Ada was . . . different.

Thranduil filled the stone tub in the bathroom with cold water and heated it to a pleasant warm with a touch of his fingers. His thoughts were in turmoil but he refused to think about them, focusing on the task of channeling hot energy into the water. He beckoned to Legolas hesitating in the doorway, and watched his son come toward him, forlorn and lost.

"Your bath is ready," Thranduil said. "Undress and climb in. You will feel better in the water, I promise."

Legolas obeyed out of habit. Dry blood had crusted to his shirt, having soaked through the bandages. As he tugged his shirt off with care, he heard his father gasp, and he twisted to look at Thranduil. He tilted his head to one side as he saw Thranduil staring at the bandages on his back in horror. As Legolas looked at him, Thranduil blinked and said in a faint voice, "You are hurt."

Legolas nodded sadly. Did ada not know he was hurt from the punishments since he had ordered them? He let his shirt fall to the floor.

Thranduil swayed and rushed to his son's side. "Why have you kept this from me? Why have you not told me? Oh, tithen las, tithen las! No, no, let me do it."

Legolas held still as his father walked around him, unwinding yards of bloody bandages. He could not understand Thranduil's reactions. Ada was confusing. As the wounds, hidden beneath the layers of bindings, were revealed, Thranduil's face grew paler and paler. As the pile of red stained cloth fell to the floor, Thranduil stood staring limply at the ugly sight of his son's back. Old scars were laced with knew ones, the skin torn and peeling. Flesh lay open, oozing blood and pus. He did not know what to feel or think. His body's instincts helped out and he turned quickly away, vomiting into the sink. Some of the sickness gone from his stomach, he steeled himself and turned back around.

Legolas sank down into the water, his arms trembling as he lowered himself into the tub. The water around his back turned a dull red. Thranduil swallowed as he sat down on the wide rim of the tub, beside the rack of bottles. Legolas twisted to look up at him, his eyes wide and lost.

"Legolas, I must tend to your back," Thranduil said. "I want you to know any pain you feel I do not intend to cause you purposefully. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ada," Legolas murmured.

Thranduil picked up a cloth, dipped it into a deep bowl of water and wiped the oozing blood from Legolas's back. Legolas hissed, his whole body clenching up.

While his hands worked at cleaning the wound, Thranduil spoke to his son, distracting Legolas's mind from his pain. Legolas clung to the sound of his voice, tears coursing down his face. As time passed, his tired eyes began to close and his head slid forward, his chin coming to rest on his chest.

Thranduil laid down the cloth and gave his son a little shake. Legolas jumped awake, splashing water from the tub, stuttering over an apology.

"Come, Legolas," Thranduil said. "The water is cold. I must bandage your wounds and then you must rest."

Legolas dragged himself from the tub and wrapped a warm towel around his tired body. He followed Thranduil into the big bedroom. The air was cool and a steady rain fell outside the window. He stood in the center of the floor while his father rubbed salve into his back and wrapped clean bandages around the wounds. His task completed, Thranduil smiled and leaned forward to kiss Legolas on the cheek. Legolas lowered his confused eyes to the floor.

"Rest now," Thranduil said.

For the first time Legolas hesitated. Now that he knew Eigil had been telling partial truths, he was afraid the elf would come for revenge as soon as he was out of the safety of his father's presence. And after Thranduil's gentle touches, he could not face the sting of the whip again.

Legolas faltered. "Ada, I-I do not wish to leave you . . ." He took an instinctive step back in fear of the punishment for denial.

"I do not wish for you to leave me either," Thranduil said. "Sleep in my bed."

Legolas stumbled to the big bed with a grateful sigh. He tumbled into the sheets as Thranduil pulled the blankets back. As the cool blankets wrapped around him, he turned his head toward Thranduil and murmured, "Hannon le."

Thranduil sat beside his son, holding his hand until his eyes closed. Silent tears slid down in his cheeks in slow succession. What had happened? What had he done? He had allowed Legolas to be brutally and cruelly abused right underneath his very eyes!


	12. I Hate Him

"Cinwe, help me," Thranduil pleaded, clutching his wife. "I am at a loss. Legolas is hurt and alone and lost and he does not trust me. This is my fault and I know not what to do! What I swore would never happen has come to pass!"

Cinwe ran a hand over her husband's cheek, looking into his eyes and stilling his hands. "Thranduil, relax. Legolas will learn to love and trust again. He needs you to be strong for him and believe."

Thranduil sank into the chair behind himself and buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking, "Oh valar, oh valar, oh valar, I do not know what to do . . . my mind is a turmoil of confusion and horror at what I have done!"

"I am as much to blame as you," Cinwe said gently. "I too feel torn inside but we have to be strong for our children."

Thranduil swallowed, struggling to control himself. "Yes, I know, but the harm Legolas has come to weighs so heavily upon my mind . . . I feel as if I inflicted every cruel injury marring his body myself." He shuddered.

Cinwe reached down to take Thranduil's hand in hers. "In a way, we did wield the whip. We neglected him, left him open and vulnerable. I think he would have overcome his feelings of rejection given enough time, and we would have realized we had thrown him over Brenen, Realn, and Mykar; we would have come back together again. But while he was alone and sad, while we were with out other children, encouraging them and giving them most of our time, Eigil attacked him and twisted his feelings with lies, resulting in this nightmare."

Thranduil pressed Cinwe's hand to his cheek. "I love you so much. The monster it would take to attack a child in such a cruel way . . ."

Cinwe wiped the tear from her face with a small sniff, tendrils of silky hair falling in front of her face as she leaned down to kiss Thranduil on the forehead. "It hurts to think of it. And it is worrying to think Eigil is out there, hiding. The scouts have yet to find him and bring him back."

Thranduil stood up with a small sigh. "Yes . . . I will check on Legolas. Then I have work to do. Stay with him when I am gone, Cinwe. He will need you more then me, and he will trust you more for Eigil spun no lies about you to him."

Cinwe nodded. As Thranduil opened the door, he met the worried blue eyes of Brenen, Realn, and Mykar.

"Is—is Legolas all right?" Realn quavered.

Thranduil swallowed, feeling his heart burn with ache at the sight of his sons in their distress.

"Legolas is healing," Thranduil said, kneeling in the doorway to be at eye level with the elflings. "He is tired ad hurt and he needs quiet and a lot of love to recover."

"C-can we see him?" Realn asked. Thranduil noticed he was squeezing the crystal ball he held in one hand tightly.

"Not yet," Thranduil said.

"Please," Mykar whispered.

"Take them with you," Cinwe advised. "I will stay with them and Legolas and keep everyone quiet so he may rest. Legolas is their brother, Thranduil, and they care about him as much as we do."

Thranduil stood up and crossed the hall, taking Realn and Mykar by the hand. As he turned the knob to his room, he said, "You must be quiet; your brother is very tired."

As three heads nodded, Thranduil opened the door and softly crossed the carpeted floor toward his bed. Brenen, Realn, and Mykar clustered around him and Cinwe as they stared at Legolas lying on his stomach beneath the white sheets, his eyes closed, dark shadows beneath his eyes. His blonde hair fell over his shoulders onto the pillow.

Thranduil leaned down to nestle the blankets around Legolas more closely and run a hand over his son's smooth hair. He stepped back with reluctance, patting Brenen on the head, nodding to Cinwe as he walked from the room and shut the door, uttering a long sigh. He took slow steps in the direction of his office, feeling grim and gloomy. Legolas had slept for three days without waking, not even responding to the feel of his bandages being changed and his wounds cleaned.

As he sat down at his desk in the large room and picked up his pen, he stared at the papers before him, wishing he could abandon his work and let the kingdom fall into chaos for a while. He cared not what happened to the kingdom; he wanted to sit with his injured son until he awoke. But . . . some dreams had to be laid aside in the face of reason. Cinwe would take good care of Legolas.

Thranduil began his work, leaving his seat to pour himself a goblet of wine to steady his nerves. The cup was empty when the door to his office opened. Thranduil looked up in fear, half expecting it to be Cinwe coming with bad news, but it was Realn.

"I am sorry to in-interrupt you, ada," Realn began. His hand squeezed the crystal ball so tight his knuckles were white.

Thranduil leapt to his feet and hurried to Realn's side, seeing fury kindled in his son's eyes and steadily building. He pried the crystal ball from Realn's grip and took his son's hands in his own. Realn clung to him, biting his lip.

"Why are you angry?" Thranduil asked. "Have your brothers been teasing you?"

"No," Realn said. He exploded, "I hate Eigil! I want to twist his head from his neck and smash his face to mush! He does not deserve a quick death or banishment! I want him to die a long, painful death for what he did to my brother! I wish I could burn him and hear him scream! It would serve him right! I hate him!"

Thranduil patted Realn's back. "Hush, hush, ion nin. I know you are angry; I am to . . . Realn, please try and calm yourself."

Realn shook his head, gritting his teeth, his hands clenching into fists as he tore them away from his father. "NO! I do not want to calm down! I want to kill Eigil! I-I cannot control myself."

Thranduil looked at his son, trembling with contained rage. He beckoned to Realn as he walked toward the door. "Come with me. We will go down to the training courtyard and you can expel your anger in the form of fire."

Realn drew in a deep breath, giving a small nod. Thranduil left his office and guided his son to the stone courtyard, taking in the fresh air and warm sunshine as he walked. The trees were bright green with leaf, and the path was clear in the grass. He stood to one side of the iron door as Realn rushed into the center of the courtyard, flung his head back and shrieked, flames exploding from his mouth. The fire curled in the sunshine, giving off a wide rush of heat. Realn collapsed on his hands and knees, tears streaming down his cheeks, fire rushing in rivers from his hands and swirling in a wide pool of flame around him.

"I HATE HIM!" Realn screamed from within the flames, as the fire rose to engulf him. "Hate him!" He buried his face in his hands and sobbed as the angry flames subsided into his puddle of grief.

Thranduil ran to Realn's side and gathered the elfling into his arms, rocking him with a sad expression. "It is all right, ion nin, Eigil cannot and never will hurt your brother ever again. The valar will ensure, and I will ensure, he cannot harm anyone ever again."

Realn snuffled against his neck, his tears sliding down Thranduil's neck and soaking the front of his robe. He wrapped his arms around his father and clung to him until his rage and grief were dried into the cloth of his father's clothes. As he wriggled upright, Thranduil wiped the tears from his face and kissed him.

"I-I feel better now," Realn faltered, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve.

"Good," Thranduil said, patting his son on the cheek. "Let us fetch your crystal ball from my office now."

Realn sniffed. He looked over Thranduil's shoulder as the iron grate creaked.

"You have a visitor waiting for you in your office," Galion said.

"Who is it?" Thranduil asked, twisting to look at his little brother. Galion was tall and handsome, his dark eyes smiling. He was training under the tutorship of the head butler of the palace, and enjoying the work to the fullest extent of his heart.

"Raileen," Galion answered.


	13. An Old Friend

"Raileen?" Thranduil said.

Galion frowned. "Yes, I believe I said that."

Thranduil patted Realn on the back. "Come, let us go greet Raileen and retrieve your crystal ball from my office. Thank you, Galion."

Galion nodded to his brother as he passed, holding Realn's hand in his. Realn walked beside his father in silence. At the door to Thranduil's office, Realn let go of his hand and clasped them behind his back. Thranduil opened the door and entered the room.

Raileen turned around from the desk, holding Realn's crystal ball in one hand, his red hair falling in a waterfall of rippling silk over his shoulder and down his back. His dark eyes smiled into Thranduil's as he inclined his head in a greeting.

"Thranduil, the time since my last visit has been too long."

Realn whimpered at the sight of his crystal ball in the hands of a stranger but kept his lips pressed firmly together. His eyes stayed on Raileen's hand, opening wide as he let out a scream at the sight of Raileen casually tossing the precious object.

Thranduil held out a hand, looking from Raileen's puzzled face to the crystal ball. He caught the object and handed it to Realn. Clutching it to his chest, Realn hurried from the room. As the door closed, Thranduil sank down in his chair with a small sigh.

"I can see much as gone by," Raileen said, perching on the edge of the desk.

Thranduil closed his eyes. "Too much. Eigil has abused my son to an inch of his life and put him into a state of terror. He refuses my help; refuses even to trust me. Everything I say falls on deaf ears. He is afraid of me, Raileen, and I know not what to do!"

Raileen's brow ceased in bewilderment. "I see you are upset. Come to the living room and recount to me your pain."

Thranduil heaved himself from his chair, pressing a hand to his forehead as he thought of Legolas so pale against the sheets of the bed, cringing at every word; every touch. Raileen's hand closed around his arm and guided him from the office to the warm interior of the living room. Thranduil sat in his armchair before the fire with Raileen facing him from the opposite chair.

"How have your travels been?" Thranduil asked.

Raileen smiled. "They have been well indeed. I enjoy experiencing the customs and cultures of the many realms across Middle Earth. Ellhamier told me your sons could fire bend."

Thranduil winced. "Indeed, all but Legolas. And that is what tears at my heart most. Because of my gifts, Legolas has been hurt. It is my fault. And alas that I was so blind as to let the evil unfold right beneath my very eyes!"

"Tell me," Raileen suggested.

Staring without a light in his eyes at the pile of ashes lying within the grate of the fireplace, Thranduil recounted the sad tale, spilling out the pain and grief ravaging the nerves of his heart. The memory of Legolas coming to his office with his pleas of release from his cage of pain brought the tears to Thranduil eyes. He dropped his head into his hands and cried, tears splashing from between his fingers as he stumbled out the words to the rest of the story.

"He will never trust me again," Thranduil sobbed. "You know not what it is like for me to experience the horrible pain of knowing my son fears me! My own son! Oh valar!"

Raileen leaned forward and took Thranduil's hands, wetted by his tears in his own. He looked into Thranduil's eyes and promised, "Legolas will trust you again, Thranduil. You may not think he will but I know he will."

"How can you know what I do not?" Thranduil cried, tears still dripping from his eyes.

"When I ran from my father," Raileen said, "I thought all hopes of having friends and being able to trust were gone from my life. I did not even know the meaning of the word trust. But then I met you and Ciran and Ellhamier and Jaiz, and that all changed. You taught me to trust and love; something my parents never considered teaching me. You gave me more then I could have ever hoped or dreamed for, Thranduil.

"I know Legolas will trust you, Thranduil. He never stopped loving you; he thought you had stopped loving him."

Thranduil closed his eyes as fresh, warm tears welled up. "I never once stopped loving him. How could he have doubted me? I . . ."

"The lashes of a whip can dull even the strongest emotions," Raileen said. His dark eyes looked into Thranduil's, the light of experience on the matter shining in their depths. "I know the cruelty of my father scattered to the wind any hidden love I may have had for him. Now I look forward to the day when he will die and never return to haunt this world."

Thranduil pulled one hand free from Raileen's grip to wipe his eyes as the tears stopped running.

"Legolas needs you now," Raileen continued. "He may be afraid of you, but in his heart he aches for you."

"He shoves me away whenever I try to hold him," Thranduil said, biting his lip as grief bubbled within him.

Raileen sat back in his chair. "Nonetheless, he still needs you to be there for him. You must show him how much you love him. It is the darkest hour, when no light shines through anywhere, that you must stay strong."

Thranduil sighed. "I am not sure I can. I am afraid—I am so afraid!"

"I have seen how much your sons all love you," Raileen said. "And how much you love them. You have given them no reason to hesitate to trust you. And from that I know Legolas still loves you."

"You are the one with experience in matters of abuse," Thranduil said, slumping in his armchair.

Raileen winced. "Those of us who do, do not come by it willingly." He leaned forward again to press Thranduil's hand in his. "I know the heavy weight of despair. But I know also the joy of it lifting and it was you who gave me that honor. Take my words, believe in them, and your life will be mended."

"I am trying," Thranduil said, his voice far away, dwelling on life before it was shattered. He looked up as Cinwe entered the room. She smiled a greeting to Raileen.

"How is Legolas?" Raileen asked.

"He sleeps," Cinwe answered. She looked at her husband. "I have sent the rest of the children out of his room. I thought you might like to sit with him alone."

Thranduil swallowed as he nodded. "Yes. Yes, I will."

Thranduil rose to his feet, extending his arms to Raileen. The elf came gladly to accept the hug. "Thank you. I feel better knowing you believe there is some hope."

"There is," Raileen said as Thranduil stepped away and headed for the door. He returned to his chair and looked at Cinwe as she sat down.

"Perhaps a cup of wine?" Cinwe offered, causing Raileen's face to break out in a wide grin.

"I hate to refuse when such a pretty woman offers it," Raileen answered.


	14. Bonding

Legolas opened his eyes, trying to remember where he was for the room was not his own. He shifted on the soft mattress, a low cry escaping him as he saw Eigil standing at the foot of the bed, a long knife in hand.

"Hello, Legolas," Eigil said, coming closer. "It is time for your punishments to be increased."

"No!" Legolas cried, trying to scramble far away from the horrible knife. The sheets tangled around him. He looked up in terror. "But I did not lie to you! I did tell ada what I said I would! You cannot punish me!"

Eigil grinned. "Indeed. I do not intend to punish you. I intend to kill you!"

The knife stabbed into his arm. Legolas howled in agony, his body bucking beneath the blankets. He saw the blade rise up, red blood dripping down onto the white pillow. He tore through the sheets, stumbling and tripping from the bed as he tried to flee Eigil. He fell on his knees as he felt the knife stab into his back. He choked on blood as he saw the tip of his knife poke out of his chest. Legolas collapsed at Eigil's feet, feeling his sticky blood pooling beneath him, the cold metal of the knife in his chest. Eigil smiled down at him, kneeling to run a finger across his cheek.

"Goodbye, Legolas," Eigil said. "Did I not say the price of disobedience would be great?"

"No," Legolas moaned.

"Your father hates you!" Eigil spat, striking the dying elfling across the face. "He left you here alone to my mercies! He cares not for you for you are a failure! A failure!"

"You lie!" Legolas cried, tears streaming from his eyes. "You lie! Ada does love me! He does not hate me!"

"He does, little leaf," Eigil said, hi voice faraway. "Think about the price of his love . . ."

Legolas lay on the floor as Eigil disappeared, at the left side of the bed where he had tumbled, tears streaming from his eyes as the last flickers of life ebbed away. He lay in darkness until a splash of water on his cheek dimly surprised him. He cracked his eyes open, trying to focus on the blurry view of the room. He heard breathing and, thinking it may be Eigil, he croaked, "Please do not torture me anymore. I will do anything."

A gentle hand touched his cheek, wiping away the teardrop. His voice choked by tears, Thranduil said, "It is me, Legolas. Eigil is not hear and he never will be. I am here to love and protect you."

Legolas's body stiffened as he twisted his head to look up, feeling the carpet of the floor beneath him. His mouth dropped open as he saw the tears streaming from his father's eyes, dripping from his face. He stammered, "I-I am s-sorry, ada. What h-have I d-done now to up-upset you?"

"You have done nothing, Legolas," Thranduil said, his voice trembling. "I am sad because have been hurt. It hurts me to see you afraid and injured."

"I-I am s-sorry," Legolas stuttered, cringing back. "P-please do not punish me."

Thranduil slid an arm under his son and lifted Legolas into his arms, laying him down against the sheets of the bed. Legolas buried his face in the pillow, tears leaking from his eyes. He felt the mattress shift as Thranduil slid into bed beside him and ran a hand over his hair. He started to cry.

"What is the matter?" Thranduil asked. "Are you wounds hurting you?"

Legolas shook his head. "N-n-no. I-I-"

"Yes?" Thranduil encouraged. "You can tell me anything, little leaf. For nothing would I hurt you as Eigil has done."

At the mention of Eigil, Legolas shuddered, remembering his all to real dream. "I-I want you to love me, ada, but I cannot pay the price for your love. I am sorry to be a failure; I love you with all my heart and I wish—"

Thranduil's eyes opened wide in horror. "Oh, Legolas, little leaf, there is no price for my love. I give it freely. I never once stopped loving you, Legolas. Come to me; there is no price for me."

Legolas's lips trembled as he peeked out from under the pillow covering his face at his father. He met Thranduil's watery blue eyes with his own and tears trickled down his cheeks. Abandoning the pillow, he crawled as close to Thranduil as he could, clinging to him beneath the warmth of the blankets. He felt Thranduil's arms wrap around him in an embrace and hug him tight. Thranduil buried his face in his son's hair and wept.

"H-have I done so-something again?" Legolas spluttered.

Thranduil shook his head as the ache in his chest streamed out of his eyes. "You have done nothing, Legolas. You must believe me. I love you so much. I was afraid after what Eigil has done to you, you would never love or trust me again."

"I never stopped loving you," Legolas said. "I-I thought you had stopped loving me b-because I cannot fire bend."

Thranduil swallowed around the sore lump in his throat as he rocked Legolas in his arms. "I love you, ion nin, as much as any of your brothers, as much as your mother."

Legolas wanted to believe his father so badly he chose to ignore the nagging whispers of Eigil's wicked voice in he back of his head. Rocked by Thranduil's strong, gentle arms and held close to his warm body, he snuggled under the blankets, closing his tired eyes.

As Thranduil planted warm kisses on his cheeks, he mumbled, "I want my brothers." His eyes popped open as he remembered he was not allowed to demand things. "I-I mean—" He regarded Thranduil in fear, but Thranduil's face softened into a smile as he patted Legolas's cheek.

"Of course. I will call them." Knowing he would be heard, Thranduil raised his voice and called Cinwe's name. As his wife appeared with Raileen behind her, worry burning hot in her eyes, Thranduil said, "Legolas would like to see his brothers."

Cinwe drew in a deep breath, resting her head against the door. "Yes, yes, of course. I-I feared the worst . . ." Collecting herself, she crossed the hall to Brenen's room and peered in, speaking softly. A minute later her three sons charged past Raileen.

"Are you feeling better?" Mykar asked, peering at Legolas.

Legolas nodded.

"He is very tired," Cinwe said, coming into the room and shutting the door.

"Please stay," Legolas mumbled. "C-can they please stay, ada?" It took all his courage to ask the question, afraid of harsh blows or cruel words. But he was so sleepy, his fear was dulled somewhat.

"Climb into bed but mind your brother's back," Thranduil said, nodding to the blankets.


	15. Bad Father, Bad Son?

Thranduil blinked into the darkness of the room as he felt Legolas stir beside him. Afraid Legolas may be experiencing another bad dream, his sleepiness faded and he became alert. The forms of Brenen, Realn, Mykar and Cinwe were snuggled into the big bed to his left and right, lumps beneath the blankets.

"Ada?" Legolas's voice was slurred by sleep.

"Hmm?" Thranduil said.

Legolas paused, wriggling in his father's arms until their hold loosened slightly. His heart pounded in his chest, almost choking him. His father remained in silence, waiting for him to speak. Legolas swallowed as the seconds passed, uneasy in the apprehensive quiet. Legolas squirmed.

Thranduil shifted onto his side, his hand finding Legolas's forehead in the dark. As his warm scent washed over Legolas, Legolas hoped his father would not see the hot tears coursing down his face. He burned hot with shame. Thranduil stroked his soothing fingers over Legolas's forehead. The fingers stopped as they went to touch Legolas's cheek and encountered the wet tears.

"Legolas?" Thranduil said.

Legolas's silent crying turned to a soft whimper. He turned into his father's embrace and sobbed against his chest. Thranduil patted his back. Through the tears, without thinking, Legolas poured out his pain and confusion. He told Thranduil about every cruel game Eigil had played with him since the abuse had started. He told of all the lies had he believed as the truth. And in the end he cried, "I am sorry, ada. I am a terrible son!"

"No, no, Legolas, it is I who is a bad father. I should have seen something was wrong and my eyes refused to see it. I neglected and ignored you in favor of being with your brothers, telling myself you were fine as you were. I left you alone in the shadows to fall prey to lies and cruelty. What has been done to you rests on my shoulders, Legolas, not yours."

Legolas gulped down another sob. "I am sorry I came to you not sooner." In a pitiful whisper, he admitted, "I-I was afraid you were what Eigil said you were."

Thranduil kissed Legolas on his pale cheek, his blonde hair brushing across his son's sad face. "Tithen las, I blame you not in your fear."

Legolas looked up into his father's kind, blue eyes. He looked away as Thranduil asked, "Are you afraid of me now?"

"I . . . do not know," Legolas faltered. "I am sorry . . ."

"No more apologies," Thranduil said. "Your heart will reach its decision when it is ready. I ask no more."

Legolas nodded in relief. The room was warm and quiet and safe. He moved closer to his father. Brenen shifted beside him and rolled over to look at him with silent pain in his eyes.

"I heard everything," Brenen said. He paused. "And I am sorry for—for being a bad brother. I let fire-bending separate us without realizing what was happening."

Legolas bit his lip, unable to turn and face his brother. "I-I-it-it is fine."

"T'isn't!" Brenen exclaimed. "It was wrong and cruel of me, and I feel very bad after I saw what happened to you. Please forgive me?"

Fresh tears exploded from Legolas's eyes. "I do forgive you. I love you and I cannot hate you; never. It would hurt too much."

"Will you forgive me to?" Mykar asked in a small voice, sitting up in bed behind Thranduil.

"And me?" Realn said.

"I apologize to you as well," Cinwe said, her voice a mirror of the darkness. "I said I would spend time with you and instead I allowed myself to be pulled away by your brothers."

"I forgive everyone," Legolas said, a smile beginning to break through his tears. "I-I—you do all love me . . ."

"Of course we do," Cinwe said, her heart pierced by the sad note in Legolas's voice. "We will remember to show it in the future, little leaf. Take our love and heal."

"I will," Legolas murmured. Brenen cuddled up against him as he burrowed into the warm folds of the blankets and his father's arms and closed his tired eyes.

* * *

"You may come to me whenever you need me," Thranduil said.

Legolas bit back a whine. He did not want to be left alone. What if Eigil came and tried to kill him. He fiddled with the blankets, sitting in bed propped up by pillows. His breakfast tray was empty in Thranduil's hands.

"I will be at a meeting," Thranduil continued. "I know you wish I could stay and I do to, but I have other duties I must attend to as well. If I could ignore the call of King, I would."

Legolas looked down at his hands and thought of the warm, safe night he had spent in the embrace of his family and said nothing.

"I will come back to you as soon as I can," Thranduil said, planting a kiss on Legolas's cheek. "I know you have no wish to stay alone so I have asked Raileen to stay with you."

Legolas nodded. He knew Raileen; Raileen would never hurt him.

"It also occurred to me you might like the company of your brothers and a few good books," Thranduil continued.

"Good books?" Legolas asked meekly, hoping the books were not historical.

Thranduil smiled. "Yes. I thought you might like to read my journals from the times of my adventures with Raileen, Ellhamier, and Ciran and Jaiz."

"A-are you sure?" Legolas stammered.

His father smiled. "Yes, my little leaf, I am certain; I trust you with my secrets and life. I sent Galion to bring the volumes in question." At a knock on the door, he added, "And that should be Raileen and your brothers."

Legolas reached his arms out to his father for a hug as Raileen stepped around the door with Brenen, Realn, and Mykar clustered in a stumbling group around his feet. Thranduil kissed Legolas on the forehead as he stood up. Walking past Raileen, he spoke to his sons from the doorway, "Be quiet and gentle with your brother; Legolas is still hurt."

"I will keep an eye on them," Raileen said, taking Thranduil's hand in a tight grip and squeezing it.

Thranduil met Raileen's eyes with gratitude. "Hannon le, mellon nin."


	16. Forgiveness and Acceptance

"When may I leave bed, ada?" Legolas asked.

Thranduil reached for Legolas's hand. "You are still hurt, little leaf."

Legolas lowered his eyes. "I-I—to be truthful, ada, I am feeling better then I have in weeks and I grow impatient to move and breath the fresh air. Because of the hard work I had to complete with Eigil, I had little time to experience the joys of the outside world, and I miss it. But I will obey you."

Thranduil touched Legolas's cheek. "I wish not for you to be hurt, ion nin, and I fear if you leave bed, your wounds will reopen."

Legolas swallowed and shook his head, leaning his cheek against his father's hand. "I will be fine, ada. When I was hurt and alone, I lived in pain every day and survived." His voice trembled. "Please, I beg you to allow me to leave bed if only for a few hours!"

Thranduil heart exploded into a well of grief at the expression in Legolas's eyes. "No, no, little leaf, never will you have to beg me for anything. You may venture outside but I ask you to accept the company of Raileen or Ellhamier or even me in case you feel the need to rest."

Legolas felt his cheeks flame hot. He was not as weak as his father may think but he could not find the courage to put his embarrassed and ashamed feelings to word. He faltered, "I-I was hoping to be alone . . ."

Thranduil sat back, pinching his lips. "I wish . . ."

"Could I not go with one of my brothers?" Legolas said quickly.

Thranduil's face relaxed. "Yes, you may. I wish only for you to be in the company of someone in case something happens . . ."

Legolas nodded. "I understand, ada."

Thranduil slid off the bed and held out a hand to Legolas. Legolas took it as he slid from beneath the blankets. As he legs hit the floor, he realized how long it had been since he had actually walked as his tight muscles began to loosen up.

"I will leave you to change while I ask Brenen to join you on your walk," Thranduil said, stepping from the room.

Legolas flexed his back muscles, feeling the old cuts stretch. As he straightened up, the pulled flesh slid back into place. He reached for his father's comb and pulled it through his hair, encountering a few tangles at the end only for his parents had combed his hair every morning and night, and Legolas had enjoyed it. As he set down the comb and dressed in the clean clothes hanging over the back of the chair, the door opened and Brenen bounced in.

"Are you ready to go for a long walk?" Brenen asked with enthusiasm.

Legolas pulled his hair out of the back of his tunic as he jerked it down and gave a slow nod. Thranduil looked at him with anxiety. "You are sure you wish to do this?"

"Yes, adar," Legolas answered. His eyes brightened as he thought of the green his eyes had missed for so long outside.

"Have a good walk," Thranduil said as Brenen skipped past him and Legolas followed more slowly. "Come back when you tire."

Legolas looked up into his father's eyes as he passed and the bright light shining in them brought a spark of happiness to Thranduil's heart as he realized how much joy he was bringing to his son's life. He closed the door behind his sons and leaned against it with a long sigh. The memory of Legolas's unwillingness to say if he feared him or not drifted back to him, and a shadows lingered over his face. He pulled himself away from the door and sank into his armchair, dropping his head into his hands, the flash of joy he had felt minutes ago lost in the sudden shadow.

"Thranduil, mellon nin?"

Thranduil raised his head to meet Raileen's questioning eyes as the elf peered around the door of his chamber, his red hair falling to the side of his face as he peered questioningly at Thranduil.

"You do not feel well?" Raileen asked, entering the room and closing the door. "I hoped to find you happy; Legolas is looking much better. The color in his cheeks has come back. What ails you?"

"He does not love me," Thranduil said miserably. "Days ago I asked him if he still feared me and he has given me no answer but a faltering and unspoken no."

Raileen crossed the room in firm strides and knelt down before his friend. He found Thranduil's hands and crushed them in a strong embrace. Looking up into Thranduil's clouded eyes, he said, "The steps to happiness are many and taken slowly at a time but the end will be reached."

Thranduil met Raileen eyes and tucked a stray strand of blonde hair behind his ears. "I hope it will be so. But I have taken no steps in many days and the stairwell before me is long, with no top in sight . . ."

"Ah, but that is not true," Raileen said. "For you have taken more then one small step by giving Legolas the freedom of the outdoors. The wind has already blown color into his cheeks and happiness into his eyes. How can you not have seen it?"

"All I see is misery," Thranduil answered.

"Then let me show you joy," Raileen said. He gripped Thranduil's arm and dragged him from the anchor of his chair, across the room to the window and flung back the dusty curtain. "Look."

Thranduil coughed on the dust flying from the curtain as he followed Raileen's outstretched finger and looked down at the green stretch of grass on the riverbank below. Trees were beyond the grass, casting a cool shadow in the summer heat. A lump came into his throat as he saw Legolas sitting with his back against the strong trunk of a tree, his head resting on Cinwe's shoulder. Ellhamier leaned against the tree trunk above him, shaping a small moose out of rocks between his hands. Brenen, Realn, and Mykar were wrestling in the shallow water of the river, an occasional burst of fire erupting from Realn.

"He said he wanted a walk," Thranduil murmured, his emotions a turmoil within him.

Raileen smiled. "He changed his mind."

Thranduil turned away from the window, biting his lip as tears sprang into his eyes. The happiness in his heart banished the sadness into a waterfall of tears that coursed down his cheeks unchecked. And even Raileen's presence brought him no shame as he buried himself in the elf's embrace and wept.

"You may not have reached the top of the stairs yet," Raileen said, holding Thranduil. "But you are about to step onto the landing."

Thranduil sniffed. "I was wrong to despair, Raileen. I fear without you I would still be lost in misery."

"Now, come with me and let us join your family under the trees," Raileen suggested. "The last traces of despair will soon fade."

Thranduil wiped his watery eyes. As he turned to face the window and drink in the happy scene below, knowing he would soon be a part of it, he noticed Legolas was laughing. The sight of the smile on his son's lips, burning in his eyes, threatened to cause the tears to flow again. But, as they welled up, a ball of mud hurtled through the window and plastered itself onto his face.

Ellhamier cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Come and join us, o' yonder king!"

Thranduil's tears dissolved into mirth. Leaning out of the window, he shook a fist at Ellhamier. "You wicked elf!"

Ellhamier grinned. "You needed it! We cannot have you crying your eyes out up there and spoiling the party! Besides, you look awful covered in mud. Better get into the river and wash up. Be careful, though. I heard Ciran is breeding a new type of flesh-eating trout. Might get bitten and infected by their poisonous fangs!"

A strong gust of wind tipped Thranduil out of the window. He landed with a heavy splash in the water as Raileen floated down with a gentle smile. The air-bender walked on the current of air and stepped out onto the bank, hurrying the join Ellhamier under the trees.

Thranduil floundered out of the water, his heavy robes dragging at his feet, and staggered up the bank, stripping off the outer layers of the many robes he had put on for the meeting earlier in the morning. Leaving the embroidered robes in a heap, clad in a much lighter, white undergarment, he flopped down beside his wife with a sigh.

"I did wonder when you would come out," Cinwe said, running a hand over Thranduil's face, and touching his muddy hair with a small smile.

"If Ellhamier must sling a mud ball at me, I would be unable to refuse," Thranduil replied, throwing a glance at the elf standing behind him. Ellhamier gave a naughty grin.

Legolas straightened up and looked across Cinwe at his father. His eyes were bright and his lips curved into a smile, small dimples showing in his flushed cheeks. Thranduil's smile reached his eyes as he gazed into Legolas's happy ones. Water from his hair dripped down his back and trickled over his shoulders.

Legolas cleared his throat. "Ada, I-I am more then happy you allowed me to leave my bed."

"You may leave your bed whenever you wish it," Thranduil answered. "If I had known how much it meant to you, I would never have expressed doubt."

"I know you feel doubt," Legolas said. He looked down at his hands for a long pause before he continued, glancing up at his father. "I do not fear you, ada. I love you, and I hope my love is worthy of you for it is all I can give you in return for the kindness and—and—" He broke off as tears started to roll down his cheeks.

Thranduil lunged across Cinwe without a thought to grab his son in a tight embrace and cover his face in kisses, drinking in the salty tears. The landing at the top of the stairs felt his foot upon it as he finally reached the top of the long flight walked in darkness and saw the light.

"Your love is more then enough for me, little leaf, for I never expected anything in return for mine." He felt Legolas wrap his thin arms around him and hug him, resting his cheek against his chest.

"Now that you have settled that, would you mind getting off me?" Cinwe asked, her voice muffled from beneath Thranduil after his ungracious lunge at his son.

And so the embrace of love and acceptance, though it would have otherwise ended in more happy tears, ended in a laugh as Thranduil dragged himself off his wife with a million apologies, leaving behind upon Cinwe's person a trail of mud and water while Legolas giggled in his arms.

* * *

 **But the horrors are not over yet!**


	17. Murder?

Legolas's health improved considerably. His heart lightened and his mind left dark thoughts behind. He made it a point to venture outside for a long walk with one of his brothers or parents every day. He put aside his books and schoolwork for Thranduil said he deserved a break, an examination revealing Legolas had learned far more then an elfling his age would normally have.

One morning Legolas sat on the floor in the living room, sprawled by the heart facing Realn, poring over the situation spread out before them on the floor.

"I am winning," Realn said in satisfaction, eying the chess board.

"But it is my move," Legolas returned. "And I am winning!"

"You are not!" Realn exclaimed.

"Children," Thranduil said from his chair, looking over the top of his book. "It is a game, not an excuse for conflict."

"Anyway, I am winning," Realn muttered, moving a piece on the checked board.

Legolas snorted as his turn came. "Ha. You better move your king or I will take it next turn."

As Realn exclaimed in annoyance and hurried to examine the situation, Thranduil asked, "Legolas, do you have any plans after the game ends?"

Legolas nodded. "Yes, ada. I am going for my walk with Brenen."

Thranduil smiled. "I see. Well, while they are gone, Realn, Mykar, come down to the training courtyard. We will practice your fire-bending forms."

"Yes!" Realn cheered. Mykar squirmed in his chair.

"Are you not excited?" Realn asked. "We have not practiced since Legolas left bed, weeks ago!"

"Oh, I am excited," Mykar said. "But Brenen will miss it. It is no fun without him."

"That is because he always misbehaves," Thranduil said.

Brenen blushed. "I do not misbehave, ada. I simply engage in more challenging activities."

"And ignore me," Thranduil replied.

Brenen waved a hand. "Well, I will not mind missing a day."

A brief shadows crossed Legolas's face as he stared at the chess board. The cloud passed and he smiled. "Have a good time."

"Oh, we will," Realn said.

"What are you reading, Mykar?" Thranduil asked, looking at the hefty book on his son's lap.

Mykar glanced up, his chin cupped in his hands. "Hmm? Oh. Oh." He held up the book. "The Office Workbook. I love it."

Cinwe raised an eyebrow as she threaded her needle over her embroidery hoop. "I had no idea that was a good book."

"It is wonderful," Mykar said enthusiastically. He turned back to the pages.

"I win!" Legolas said, jumping to his feet. "Come on, Brenen!"

Leaving Realn to put away the chess pieces, Legolas and Brenen ran out of the room. Walking on a secluded path beneath the trees, Legolas held his brother's hand and skipped. He stopped with a frown on his face, feeling something well within him, like vomit looking to explode. Maybe lying on his stomach while playing chess had upset his lunch . . .

"Are you all right?" Brenen asked.

Legolas ran a hand over his stomach with a slight wince. "Yes . . . could you leave me alone for a few minutes?"

"You know ada does not want you to be alone while Eigil is still out here," Brenen began.

"Please?" Legolas asked with imploring eyes. He swallowed nervously, feeling like he did indeed need to vomit. "Eigil has not been heard of in a long time. Why would he appear now?"

"Five minutes," Brenen said after a long pause. "Five."

"Thank you," Legolas said. He waited until his brother has disappeared down the path behind him before he leaned against a tree with a slight gulp, clutching his stomach. Hearing footsteps, he looked up and froze.

"Greeting, my little prince," Eigil said.

Legolas inched his way backward, knowing his fear showed in his eyes. The trees arched over the path around him and, though the air was full of sunshine, the air seemed heavy to Legolas.

"Where have your manners gone?" Eigil asked, his voice threatening.

"I-I will scream from Brenen," Legolas whispered, his throat dry.

"Then I will kill him to!" Eigil answered, his lips curving into a smile. He brought his hand out from behind his back, grasping a long, slender knife.

"No!" Terror rooted Legolas to the ground. He stared transfixed at the knife as Eigil approached. Eigil wanted to kill him. Eigil was going to kill him!

"Do you remember the pain, princeling? The searing agony reminding you with every step you are useless?"

"You lie!" Legolas spat, clenching his fists. He saw the sun catch on the knife as it went up and instinctively raised his arms to guard against the blow. "Ada does love me!"

"How pathetic!" Eigil sneered. "How could a father love a son whose spirit is so weak, he cannot fight for his own life?" The knife came down.

Legolas stumbled back, tripping. As he sprawled to the ground, he screamed, "Brenen! Help me! Please!" He felt an iron grip grab his forearm and drag him to his feet. He struggled against Eigil's grasp as the knife went back to stab into his heart. "No!"

Fear bubbled within him as he met Eigil's hard eyes. The knife came down. Legolas hurled himself forward, crashing into Eigil's chest, the knife missing him by inches as it swished past his back.

"I hate you!" Legolas screamed. Before his eyes the world turned red. A rush of heat hit his face. He could hear Eigil screaming. He looked down at his hands, instant panic and dismay filling him as he saw curling flames shooting out of his fingers. He shrieked, stumbling back as the fire caught hold of leaves and brush. All around him fire roared up and he could not stop it! He would burn down Mirkwood and ada—and ada—and ada—

Long, slender hands closed over Legolas's hands, shutting off the fire and holding them tight. The fire died. Legolas looked up, his frightened eyes meeting Thranduil's. He saw Brenen standing a few feet away, dissolving the flames eating the trees into himself.

"I am s-s-s-sorry, ada," Legolas stammered. "I-I-I do not know h-how it s-s-started . . ."

Thranduil wrapped his arms around Legolas and pulled him to his chest. Legolas cried smoky tears of confusion into Thranduil's pine-scented shoulder. Around him, the fires were dead, leaving only a few black marks to stain the trees. Thranduil picked Legolas up and crossed the path to sit down on a fallen tree trunk serving as a bench. Legolas trembled in his arms, hands curled into fists beneath his stained cheek. Cinwe came running, followed by two elves from the healing wing. Eigil's unconscious form was quickly removed.

"Legolas?" Cinwe placed a hand on her son's back.

Legolas sobbed, shaking his head. "Please do not punish me! Please do not! I did not mean to burn the forest down! I did not mean to kill Eigil. Please no."

Cinwe knelt down by her son and rested her cheek on his back, hugging him. Words were useless until Legolas knew some calm. Legolas coughed down a last sob, sniffling into Thranduil's chest. He peeked up at his father and met a gentle smile.

"It seems you have inherited my fire-bending after all," Thranduil said. "Worry not; you killed not Eigil nor did you destroy the forest."

"You can fire-bend!" Brenen yelled, overjoyed.

"It started by me feeling sick," Legolas said slowly. "I felt my stomach swimming and I thought I was going to vomit. And then Eigil attacked me and said I was unloved because—because I cannot fight for myself . . ."

"I hope you know it was untrue," Cinwe said.

"Do you love me?" Legolas blurted.

"Never have we stopped loving you," Cinwe said, hugging Legolas around the waist tightly.

Legolas sniffed. "I do not want to fire-bend," he whimpered.

"But why not?" Thranduil asked in surprise. "You wanted to be a part of your brother's lessons so long. And now you have the gift, you do not want it?"

"No," Legolas whined. "I was so happy with the way things were . . . my brothers played with me and you and naneth spent time with me . . . and now everything has to change again!"

"Oh, ion nin," Cinwe murmured. "Nothing will change in the way it did the first time again. We will still spend time with you, and your brothers will still play with you. You will just be able to do more with them. You will like it, you will see."

Thranduil set Legolas on his feet and reached for his hand. "And now let us return home and celebrate tomorrow's joys."

Cinwe used the corner of his sleeve to wipe Legolas's tears away. She patted him on the cheek, took Brenen's hand, and walked homeward. Legolas walked in silence, wondering if his mother was right.


	18. Conjuring A Spark

Thranduil sat and watched Legolas. His son sat curled in the armchair in his father's room, sipping brandy from a cup to sooth his nerves. His face was pale and shaken, his hands trembling, his mind still on thoughts of his new fire-bending and Eigil's horrible shrieking.

"Do you feel better?" Thranduil asked, taking Legolas's empty cup.

Legolas nodded, his eyes on the floor.

"Would you like to try summoning a flame?"

"No!" Legolas cried, shrinking back into his seat. "I-I—no!"

"You will not hurt me, little leaf," Thranduil said gently. "My powers are greater then yours; if anything wild comes into being, I will end it."

Legolas drew his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead on them. He could not explain to his father how humiliated he would feel if he failed to create a spark. He could not explain how the thought frightened him. He felt Thranduil raise his chin and tried to avoid his father's steady gaze but he failed.

"Legolas, I will not force you to do anything you do not wish to. But I need you to promise me one thing; if you want to conjure a flame, please do it away from the trees."

Legolas flushed. "Yes, ada."

Thranduil rose to his feet, passing a hand over Legolas's. "Hannon le, my little leaf. I will be gone a moment but wait for me here. I must ask the healers how Eigil fares."

Legolas waited for the door to close behind his father before he sprang to his feet and timidly attempted to produce a flame, holding out his hands, his face turned away. A small drop of fire appeared in the air above his palm, the size of a candle flame. Legolas peeked at it and turned his head to face it, enjoying the warmth it cast on his face. He sat down in the armchair and concentrated on feeding the fire. He created another small flame in his other hand and cautiously joined the two together, holding the flame in his cupped hands.

The door opened and Thranduil entered the room, walking past the small table against the wall where the brandy bottle stood. He stopped in front of his son and Legolas looked up at him, holding out the flame with a big smile.

Thranduil knelt down to admire the fire. "It is beautiful, Legolas. Fire it may be but it is a good reflection of your peaceful heart."

Legolas ducked his head as his cheeks turned red at the praise. "T-thank you, ada. I-I was not really trying. I-I mean I had to think about it to make the fire but . . ."

Thranduil smiled. "I understand." He held up his own hands, a flame blossoming above them. "Now follow my movements as best as you can."

Legolas sat back, his heart fluttering, and tried to imitate his father's smooth, steady hand movements but his own felt awkward and clumsy, lacking the grace. The small but majestic dragon Thranduil created looked enchanting; captivating. His own looked crooked and far from terrifying.

"I cannot do it!" Legolas exclaimed, his ball of flame vanishing in a puff of smoke. "It is no good; I will never be able to do it like you!"

"What you say is true," Thranduil agreed. "You will never be able to do it the way I do for you must bend your own way."

Legolas buried his face in his hands and leaned his elbows on his knees. "Will you punish me for failing?" His voice sounded lonely and meek.

"You failed not, Legolas. Practice is all you need. You did the best you could and I could not ask more."

"Eigil would have whipped me."

"I am not Eigil," Thranduil said. "His actions were cruel and unjust."

Legolas raised his head and wrapped his arms around his father's neck. He smiled at the far wall, seeing a light ahead of himself in the darkness.

"Come and eat with us," Thranduil said. "Dinner will be served soon, and you must be hungry."

* * *

Eigil blinked to restore his focus. He lay still in bed, recovering from his vicious burns. His face twisted into a mask of bitterness and hate as he thought of Legolas. Miserable elfling had dared to fight back and had even half-killed him! Clearly his punishments could not have been hard enough!

"I see you are awake."

Eigil jerked in surprise; the king! His room held only his bed and a small table with a window to his left. Thranduil stood before the window, gazing out at the courtyard below. He turned to face Eigil; his eyes empty of emotion, hands behind his back.

"I come to talk to you about several select things," Thranduil said.

Eigil lifted his chin. "I have nothing to say. Now that I lie helpless, the great king Thranduil wishes to talk? I think not!"

"I wish to help you, Eigil."

"I do not want your help and pity!" Eigil spat.

"And I have none to give," Thranduil answered. "What evil has taken your heart?"

"No evil but the righteousness of orcs!" Eigil replied, his eyes gleaming. "On my journey with the family as I child to Rivendell, everyone in my company was either slaughtered or taken captive. They killed my weak parents and I watched! Orcs taught me to survive, one must be strong and earn their place or die trying! Lived with the orcs as one of them, and their lessons were of strength and honor! Your gentle ways are petty and weak!"

"I am sorry you believe that," Thranduil said.

"Pah! I came here to live with my own kin, and what have I found? I find elves are measly, pathetic wretches! My wife died giving birth to my son in the greatest show of weakness of all!" Eigil gasped for breath.

"Your son?" Thranduil said, concerned any child of Eigil might fare worst then Legolas.

"Yes, my son!" Eigil spat. "My monster, Web. Beastly child! Never does he learn the lessons of life as I try to teach him as I was taught!"

"Lie back and rest," Thranduil advised. "The fire burned your lungs; save your breath."

"Kill me and be done with it!" Eigil spat. "I know you want to!"

"I will not live knowing I am a Kinslayer," Thranduil answered.

A cruel smile played across Eigil's lips as he thought of a way to punish Legolas further for his actions. He chuckled at the thought of it, the sound ugly and rough. His eyes crazed, Eigil continued, driving the thought of pain and suffering further. "Web is dead by now; chained to the wall of the cellar without the food and water his weak body survives on! Serves him right for his—" He broke off, coughing up blood.

Thranduil cast a disgusted look in Eigil's direction and departed from the room. Eigil wiped the blood from his lips on the back of his hand and leered at the far wall as his mind worked to bring to life the details of his wicked plan.

Meanwhile, Thranduil summoned his Captain of the Guard, Rival. The elf knelt at his feet, his head bowed as he received his orders. "Rival, go to Eigil's house and recover from the cellars an elfling known as Web."

Rival's head jerked up. "A son? The son of Sauron has a son?"

"Yes, and my heart is as full of fear as yours," Thranduil confesses. "Go quickly and end his suffering!"

Rival rose to his feet, the skirt of his green tunic swirling around his legs. A ponytail falling onto his shoulder restrained his hair. His green eyes glittered and his lips were sympathetic. He turned, his hand on his sword hilt, hand pushing back his cloak and marched from the room. No sooner had the elf gone then one of the healers approached Thranduil.

"My lord, I am sorry to say Eigil's condition is not promising. His lungs were burned by the fire and damaged. I do not think he will live. It is all we can do to ease his passing."

Thranduil closed his eyes as he thought of how Legolas would feel. "I will grieve his passing for it is not every day an elf dies. Do what you can for him."

"I marvel you do not hate Eigil for the many ways he harmed you and your son," said the healer.

"Eigil is a hurting elf now," Thranduil said sadly. "It is true he hurt me and he has paid the piece for his actions in a way he could not have anticipated. Excuse me; I must see how Legolas progresses."

Thranduil left the palace and walked to the stone courtyard. Legolas was there, with his brothers, practicing fire bending. As he pushed open the metal gate, Legolas turned to greet him, his smile illuminated by the flames rushing from his hands. "Ada, look! I can make the dragon you showed me!" He flung out his hands and the flaming dragon rose into the air, spitting fire before it fell to the ground in a gentle shower of sparks.

Thranduil closed the metal gate behind him. "I am happy you are happy, my little leaf. Are you ready to learn something new?"

Legolas glanced behind him at his grinning brothers. "Yes!"

Thranduil held out his hands. "Watch me and follow my actions!"

The smile on Legolas lips and the happiness in his eyes lifted the shadow from his heart. He looked over his shoulder and saw Cinwe sitting on the wide, flat top of the wall near the gate with Ellhamier sitting beside her, his arms folded. Cinwe smiled and waved her hand.

"I am not lonely, Thrandy," she said. "It brings great joy to my heart to see all my boys so happy."

Assured Cinwe was not feeling shoved into the shadows, Thranduil turned back to the quadruplets.


	19. The Son of Eigil

Thranduil, Rival, and Healer Helix stood over Web's bedside. The son of Eigil lay asleep, curled beneath the blankets. His face was hidden against the soft pillow and the quilted blanket hid his cheeks.

"Indeed, I felt sick," Rival said, touches of faintness showing in his voice and his eyes pools of pure disgust mixed with worry as he gazed upon the lump on the bed. "I arrived at the cellars and found a locked door of cold iron. I found the key and opened the door and thought I had stepped into the land of death! I found this poor elfling lost and buried amidst the stench of rot and decay, more dead then alive, starving. Chains held him to the wall and weakness held him captive. But what further horrified me was not the fact he has lived in terror all his life but the fact he has never in his few years seen the son or left the cell I found him in. the sunlight hurt his eyes."

Thranduil swallowed, Rival's words awakening the fires within him, causing them to burn with rage. He thought of Eigil and his lips pinched together to hold back his fury. With an effort so great, he clenched his hands together unconsciously, he stilled his thoughts, and allowed some calm to enter his heart, blanketing the rage for he knew this was not the time to explode.

"Life's horrors never fail to surprise me," Helix said, with a sad shake of his head. "I have treated elves, their bodies torn and sliced open in battle, and I have sewn them back together while they screamed and groaned. I have bathed my hands in blood, reached inside bodies to restore balance and felt only sympathy. But for all my experience, when I saw the condition of Web, in all my years, never have I felt such a turmoil of anger and sympathy and sickness in my stomach; pure grief anyone would do such things to an elfling."

"How old is he?" Thranduil asked.

Helix shook his head. "It is impossible to tell. His body looks to be about nine human years but starvation and maltreatment could have halted growth. He could be as old as twenty human years."

"Will he—will he live?"

"Web will live," Helix said. "But I am worried. When Web recovers, he will need love and care in great quantities but I do not know where he will find such love or even if we can give him the support he will need emotionally."

"We will do all we can," Thranduil said. "Do what you can to heal his body, Helix."

"I would think of doing nothing otherwise," Helix said. He reached down and folded the blanket off Web's face. The elfling stirred and mumbled. And Thranduil hissed. Ugly purple bruises and welts covered the face of the delicate child. His veins bulged out of his paper-thin skin. Dried tears were visible on his swollen cheeks. Blood seeped from the split skin.

"The rest of his body fared worst," Helix said. He reached for the cloth soaking in the bowl of cold water on the table to his left and squeezed the water out of it. He ran the cloth over Web's face, gently wiping away the blood and oozing wounds.

Thranduil grimaced, his lips twisting with sorrow and anger. "I expected worst but I should have known it would be worst then I could imagine. It seems Eigil used his son as a punching bag. Oh, I have no pity for him; not after seeing this."

Helix nodded. "I too can find only anger in my heart when I think of Eigil and the cruelty with which he has treated _his own son_." He picked up a glass jar of white ointment, unscrewed the top, dipped his fingers into the jar, and smoothened it over Web's cuts. The elfling jerked and moaned.

"Hannon le, Rival, for bringing the elfling to a happier place," Thranduil said, inclining his head toward the Captain of the Guard.

Rival nodded, his eyes on Web. "To bring him to a better place brought a sad joy to my heart. I now understand how you felt when your son confessed his wounds to you."

"Legolas's injuries came no where near to this level of abuse," Thranduil said. A twinkle came into his eyes. "Speaking of Legolas, I excuse myself. I must check on his progress and take him some lunch. He is so eager to learn the art of fire-bending, he forgets to eat!"

His heart dwelling on happy things, Thranduil departed on his errand. He arrived at the practice courtyard with a tray of cold food from the kitchens and found his sons practicing fire-punches in a state of great frustration.

"I cannot make it look right!" Legolas yelled. He punched out a fist and a cone of fire exploded out from his knuckles. Brenen, standing nearby, looked at his father with relief.

"Ada!" Brenen cried. "Oh, thank the valar! He has been trying to imitate me and I cannot keep showing him!"

Seeing Brenen's patience was at an end, Thranduil deposited the tray of food on the metal table against the wall by the gate. "Tithen las, your results look good to me. Come, it is time to try something new."

Legolas dropped his hands with a sigh. His eyes brightened as he ran toward his father. Brenen, Realn, and Mykar followed after him.

"Did you bring us lunch to, ada?" Mykar asked.

"No," said Thranduil. "Cinwe is waiting for you three in the dining room. Now, shoe!"

Grumbling, Brenen, Realn, and Mykar dragged themselves out of the courtyard. Legolas looked at Thranduil hopefully.

"You can create fire with little trouble," Thranduil said. "Now I want you to concentrate on creating the heat without the flame. I want you to warm up your lunch. Begin with this cold tea."

Legolas took the mug into his hands and closed his eyes to concentrate on warming the cold liquid. Steam rose from the mug. Legolas looked at his father anxiously, his heart begging to hear his father's praise.

Thranduil gestured to the steak.

Disappointed his father remained silent, Legolas held his hands over the steak, over anxious to do an excellent job of heating the meat. He pushed too hard and a jet of fire torched the meat. The smell of burning made father and son cough. Eyes watering, both stepped away from the smoking plate.

"Gentle, Legolas, be gentle," Thranduil coughed. "Minimal force. Let the heat leave your body slowly. Relax and release it."

Legolas hung his head. "Goheno nin. I-I will not do it again."

Thranduil wiped his eyes. "Legolas, you are not expected to succeed at the first try. Do you want to try again?"

"I would like to eat now," Legolas said meekly. "Could you—will you please heat the rest of the food for me, ada?"

"Of course." Thranduil created a hot bubble of air around the tray. Legolas watched with jealously in his eyes. When the food steamed, Thranduil waved the heat away and sat down across from Legolas at the bench.

"Have you already eaten?" Legolas asked.

Thranduil nodded. "Yes." He clasped his hands before him on the table. "You have progressed well, little leaf."

Legolas ducked his head as a flush spread across his cheeks. "Hannon le, ada."


	20. Concern

Web peered at Rival. All he knew existed in his mind as he gazed at the elf. He knew this elf had taken him away from his dark home and introduced him to a world full of light and green. He knew the softness he lay on did not hurt his body. And he knew Rival wore an expression he had never seen before.

"Can you speak?" Rival asked.

"Yes, m-master," Web stammered.

"Rival. My name is Rival. Rival. Not master. Say it."

"R-Rival," Web whispered.

"Good. Much better. Are you comfortable?"

"I-I do not know. What is comfortable?" Web asked hesitantly.

Rival paused, leaning back in his chair. "Well, comfortable is when the place you are sitting or lying on does not dig into your body."

Web considered. "I feel com—f-fort—able, master—Rival," he corrected hastily.

Healer Helix drifted into the room. "How is our young friend today?"

Rival turned in his chair. "Our young friend is feeling comfortable and hungry."

Helix looked toward the door as a tall and lanky limbed elf marched into the room, balancing a tray of hot food in his hands. He set down the tray on a small table.

"Do you require anything else?" the elf asked, clasping his hands behind his back. He was dressed in a healer's white robe with swallow-tailed sleeves and a golden belt. His hazel hung down his back in a thick braid.

Helix placed a hand on Web's forehead, relived to find it cool. He glanced at his assistance. "I would like the jar of ointment I refilled a few hours ago; the one I have been using for Web's bruises."

The elf nodded and left the room, his step springy and his robes swirling around his ankles. Helix tested the warmth of the broth on the tray, found it warm, and handed the bowl to Web. Web's hands shook, half sloshing the broth and, ignoring the spoon, and slurped down the broth, licking the last juices from his chin.

Outside in Mirkwood, crickets sang into the night. Web's room glowed a soft yellow, lit by a single candle. Heavy curtains across the window pooled their edges on the floor, blocking out any of the light that would come at day for bright light hurt Web's eyes.

Helix's assistant returned with a jar of white ointment and handed it to the healer. Web winced as the white salve was spread across his bruised face, smoothened around his eyes and lips across the mottled skin discolored by layers of battered flesh.

Rival rose to his feet with a yawn and headed for the door.

* * *

Legolas lay on the floor beside Realn, building a tower out of thin sticks. It wobbled as he put another stick on and the whole thing crashed, the red and blue blocks skidding across the floor. One of them touched Cinwe's bare foot and she nudged it back toward him. Legolas pulled himself upward and started collecting the fallen pieces. He shoved the pile to Realn along with the box and climbed into Thranduil's lap, ducking under the book in his father's hand. Thranduil moved his arm around Legolas and returned to the book.

"Will Web be okay?" Legolas asked.

Thranduil nodded. "Of course. If you recovered, there is no reason he should not."

"Web does not have you," Legolas said. "Or anyone."

Thranduil closed his book and tossed it onto the table beside him. He looked down at Legolas's worried face. "Well, Web has Healer Helix and Helix will take good care of him."

"What will happen after he is better?" Legolas continued.

"He will find a good family to look after him," Cinwe said from across the room.

"But how?" Legolas persisted.

"Last time I checked, it is past bedtime," Cinwe said, putting aside her work.

"Oh, but naneth!" Brenen, Realn, Mykar, and Legolas all protested.

"But I have half a chapter left," Mykar objected, holding up his giant book of Office Help.

"Tomorrow," Cinwe said, motioning to the door.

Realn scraped himself off the floor and set the bow of tower pieces on the nearest table. Thranduil let Legolas slip from his lap before he rose to his feet and herded the quadruplets from the room.

Legolas hesitated outside the door to his room, looking at Thranduil as if dying to ask more about Web. After a moment he pushed open the door to his room and went in. Cinwe came in after him to tuck him into bed.

"When will Web be better?" Legolas asked as he climbed under the blankets.

"When Helix says so," Cinwe replied.


	21. The Storm

Two months later

Helix watched Web walk around the room. The elfling seemed to have regained most of his strength but the bruises on his face and neck still looked truly horrible; the stuff of an old nightmare. Web's eyes had grown gradually accustomed to the light.

"You are free to walk wherever you wish," Helix said. "As long as you return before dark and if you lose your way, you can ask any of the elves to help you come home. Do you understand?"

Web nodded.

Helix waved toward the door and turned to make the bed.

Web walked from the room he had spent many weeks in, the only place he knew of in his new home. He wandered in the long halls, shrinking back into the shadows whenever an elf passed. He knew not what the elves might do to him if he happened to obscure their path, so he stayed silent and inched along the walls until they were gone. The palace lay stretched out before him, bigger then anything he could imagine. He found his way out onto the winding platforms and stopped to look at Thranduil's throne. He forgot the great chair as he spotted sunlight and followed it outside.

The two guards he passed on either sides of the door did nothing to stop him but cast curious looks in his direction. Web crossed the arching bridge beyond the doors, stopping to look down at the water. Web followed the footpath into the trees. He passed large, flat rocks covered with moss where elves sat, laughing. He spotted many little clearings where neat houses rested. Web followed the footpath until it forked left and right. He took the left fork and kept walking.

The air smelled clean and fresh, not like the damp, musty smell of his old prison. He liked the smell of the trees, and the sound of his wind. The sunlight felt warm on his face, sort of like the candle Eigil had given him sometimes but the sunlight was much nicer.

Web trailed his hands over the tree trunks as he passed, staring down at the soft grass beneath his feet. He bumped into a warm body and looked up in horror as the elf gave a startled cry. Web stumbled back, stammering and stuttering. Before the elf could utter a word, Web fled into the trees, gasping as he ran. His breath hammered against his ribs and bruised his insides as he fled, afraid the elf was chasing him to punish him for bumping against him. He sank down to his knees, wrapping his arms around his waist and gasped for breath, sucking the cold air into his hot lungs. A frantic look around revealed his only company was the trees and birds.

Web climbed to his feet, his heart stilling in his chest as he heard the sound of laughter. Curiosity coming to life inside him, he followed the sound as the wind carried it closer. The trees ended, replaced by a long field of open grass. Web lay down on his stomach, his eyes wide as he beheld the sight before him. He loved his new world but the sight before him was like a wonderful dream.

The field ahead of him was full of elflings and their smiling parents. The elflings stood in a long row the length of the field, facing bales of golden hay. The curved sticks in their hands projected flying missiles toward the bales. The adult elves stood in clustered groups, watching and, in some cases, helping their offspring handle their bows. The archery master walked up and down the row of students, correcting stances. While the activities of the elves were something new to Web, it was not the archery he was interested in. He rested his chin on the moss between his hands and watched the parents interacting with the children. And it was not just their own children; none of the parents were being mean to _any_ of the elflings. Web could not believe his eyes. Accustomed to and having grown up chained to a dirt wall, beaten every day for being weak, seeing only words of encouragement, hugs, and gentle touches was something new and amazing. Even when the straw bales were missed, no voices were raised in fury and no blows struck upon the disappointed face of the bow wielder.

And as he watched, Web felt a lonely hole open in heart. A tear trickled down his cheek as he thought of Thranduil and Legolas and his quadruplets. He had never viewed Eigil as being a person who cared for him. But now he wished he had someone like Thranduil; someone like all the elflings in the field had. He blinked and wiped his eyes. It felt good to watch the field but he felt alone and rejected by it.

Web's eyes slipped shut. He shifted on the warm moss and curled on it to sleep, his sadness bringing to life his sudden exhaustion. The frantic run had drained his energy and his body cried out for rest. The moss made a nice pillow beneath him and the sunlight warmed him, casting dappled shadows over the bruises on his face.

And when Web opened his eyes, he shivered, wondering why the air felt cold and heavy. He curled tighter to stay warm but flew to his feet, eyes wide as a loud crash sounded overhead and an evil blue glow flashed through the night. He spun around in horror, seeing dark shadows all around him. A cold, wet mist fell around him, pattering over leaves. Another loud crash sounded and the rain increased to a heavy pouring. Web cringed back against a tree trunk, shivering and wet. He screamed as a pair of glowing eyes looked down at him from the tree and ran. He knew not where he would run but he fled, his feet tripping over roots, his body knocking against tree trunks. The resulting bruises hurt but he cared little for his heart was overcome with uncontrollable terror and he ran until he slipped on mud and collapsed in a puddle of misery.

He felt like crying but he was too frightening, wondering if the thing with red eyes had chased hi. He crawled forward and bumped against something solid. He felt it with his hands and relief washed over him. It was a house! He found the doorknob and turned it, stumbling into the dark warmth within. The cold rain stopped drenching him as he staggered to the warm red glow at the opposite end of the room, burning in the hearth and collapsed on the floor. Safe from the rain and the glowing red eyes, he slept, not one thought going to what the owners of the house would say when they found him; it had slipped his mind houses had owners and he was too cold and wet to care.

* * *

 **But what will they say?  
**

 **And to those of you who are reading this and have given Benders a glance, I have a new poll up on my profile that involves Elladan and Elrohir. I was thinking about giving them some bending but I am having some trouble deciding what element or elements best represents them so I would appreciate it if you would vote on the poll to share your opinion. It would help me more then you know.**


	22. Worried Families

Thranduil stood with his back to the door, staring out the window at the rain. Cinwe leaned over the hearth in their room, stoking up the fire to keep back the damp. She straightened up and came to stand beside him.

"Ever since you returned from the summons to the healing wing, you have seemed worried," Cinwe said.

"Web is not back," Thranduil said.

"He has run away?"

"Or been caught in the rain," Thranduil sighed.

"Much more likely," Cinwe said. She stared out at the dark night. "It is doubtful he will return tonight; he may have lived in a cellar for many years but he has sense. He will seek shelter."

"Do you think the wolves will eat him?"

Thranduil and Cinwe whirled around. The door to their room stood open, the knob held by Brenen's hand. Brenen's blue eyes were opened wide.

"How long have you been there?" Cinwe asked.

"Long enough," said Brenen. He persisted, "But do you think the wolves will eat him?"

"We will all go to bed and hope not," Thranduil replied coolly. "Now, had you intended to say something other then express your concern for Web?"

"Good night," Brenen replied and slammed the door. His running feet retreated down the hall toward his shared room. Thranduil thought he heard faint giggling.

Cinwe pulled down the blankets on the bed and slid under the covers. As Thranduil came to join her, untying his dressing gown, the door opened again.

"Goodnight, Realn," Thranduil said without turning.

"Night, ada," Realn said. He looked at Cinwe. "I might say good night to you but I do not need to; Legolas is coming to do it for me."

"And _that_ is what you get when you refuse to give him a third bowl of ice cream," Cinwe said with a small sigh.

"Good night, naneth," Realn said with a grin. The door slammed after him.

As the door creaked open for a third time, Thranduil said, "If I hear the door slam one more time you will be the one fixing it when its abused limbs break!"

Legolas blinked. "Goodnight, ada . . . naneth."

"Goodnight, Legolas," Thranduil said and Cinwe waved as the door shut quietly.

Thranduil discarded his dressing gown and climbed into bed. He was about to pull up the blankets and lie down when the door opened and a frowning Mykar appeared.

"Goodnight," he grumbled. He shut the door with an indignant bang.

"What is with him?" Cinwe wondered.

"I expect he was dragged away from his book of Office Work," Thranduil replied. He stared at the ceiling and said thoughtfully, "I should get rid of it. It is depressing to look at."

* * *

Galleon walked out into the main room of his house, yawning and stretching. He stopped mid-stretch as he approached the fireplace to stoke up the fire and warm the house before his wife left bed and stared at the curled bundle on the rug before the stone hearth. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was dreaming. As the scene refused to dissolve into smoke, he decided it must be real.

The door to the left of the fireplace opened and his dark haired son, Zionel, came out.

"Morning, ada," said the tall elf lad, his yellow eyes shining in his face. His chest and arm muscles were well developed from cutting the family's wood. "Is naneth up yet . . ." He trailed off as he followed his father's gaze and signal to be quiet. Walking quietly, Zionel came to stand beside his father.

"What on Middle Earth?"

"Good morning!"

Galleon and Zionel both turned with fingers to their lips to face the willowy elf woman stepping from the door behind them. Her green eyes looked puzzled as she looked at them, her eyebrows dipped. She finished tying the ties of her blue dress and said, "But Ilune is awake already."

A little elf girl in a pink dress toddled past her mother's skirts and ran toward Galleon, her round face split into a smile. She hugged her father around his legs, reaching up to his thighs.

"Oh my . . ." said Anialia as she joined her husband and followed his gaze to the hearth. "He must have wandered in out of the rain. It is a he, right?"

Galleon and Zionel both shrugged.

The cracked door of Zionel's room creaked open and his wolf-dog walked out, his sleek brown coat glistening. He had a feral, almost wild face and sharp white teeth. He sniffed the air and stalked slowly toward the bundle on the hearthrug.

"Briar!" hissed Zionel. "Come here! Briar!"

Briar sniffed the bundle. His tongue snaked out to lick the elfling's face. The elfling stirred and mumbled, reaching out a hand to shove the wolf away. Briar licked him again. The elfling's hand froze as it met the smooth fur and he sat up, wild-eyed and disheveled. He took one look at the wolf and screamed long and high and loud.

Ilune, running toward Briar, stopped mid-step and burst into tears. Zionel made a lunge for his wolf while Anialia scooped up her wailing daughter. Galleon reached for the elfling but he scrambled back, his eyes wide with terror. The bruises on his face disturbed Galleon greatly. The heat of the coals behind him stopped the elfling from moving back too far but he continued to scream even after Galleon reached out to pull him into a soothing hug. The frightened wailing turned to muffled sobs as Galleon rubbed his back.

"It is all right," Galleon said. "We will not hurt you. Anialia."

Zionel turned around from turning Briar out of the house and took a step back as Anialia put the sniffling Ilune into his arms. His mother moved forward to kneel beside her husband and peer down at the pale face pressed against Galleon's chest. Seeing his flushed cheeks and glassy eyes, she touched a hand to his forehead, feeling the boy flinch.

"He has a fever," she said. "And a slight chill. He should be put to bed and given hot tea and broth. We will have to keep him here until his parents are found. While I tend to him, you step out and see if you can find his parents. He may not live far from us."

Galleon shifted the elfling to his wife's lap.

"It is best he sleeps close to the hearth where we can all keep an eye on him," Anialia said. "It is warm here to. Put together a bed frame for me, Galleon. Zionel, bring me blankets and then take Ilune with you to fill a mattress cover with clean hay from the barn."

Zionel put Ilune down and opened the door. Briar bounded in.

"Now you stay with Ilune," Zionel said, eying the wolf. Briar settled down beside Ilune and licked the hand she held to her nose. Zionel set off for the hall closet and returned with an armful of quilts. Galleon rose to his feet and bounded out the door to the woodshed out back.

Anialia smiled down at the elfling in her arms, feeling him shudder. He looked up at her, his hands curled into fists beneath his chin, blinking away the water in his big eyes. He looked away again as he heard the banging of Galleon's hammer outside.

"You can put the kettle of water on to boil," Anialia said, looking up at her son.

Zionel nodded and moved away to fill up the iron kettle hanging over the bed of coals in the hearth. Anialia rocked the child in her arms, feeling him shake with fever.

Galleon came through the door with a quickly fashioned bedframe behind him. Anialia scotched backward across the floor so Galleon could tug the bed frame into place a few feet from the hearth. Zionel ducked out the door with the mattress cover in his arms.

Galleon came to look down at his wife. "How is he?"

"Not well," said Anialia. "And growing worst. He has a bad fever."

Zionel returned with the mattress in his arms, made plumb by straw. He crammed the bulging folds into the bed frame, securing it against the ropes crisscrossing the bottom of the frame. Anialia rose to her feet and laid the elfling down on the bed. She tucked the thick quilts around him and placed a pillow beneath his head. He regarded her with half-closed eyes, the haze of terror beneath them dulled by sickness.

"We will have to take good care of him," Anialia said, stepping back, "A cool cloth will have to stay on his head. I will make some tea and broth. Galleon, you step out and see if anyone is missing a child."

Galleon headed for the door, leaning down to plant a kiss on Ilune's head before he shut the door behind him. Anialia looked at Zionel as he moved to stoke up the fire with more wood and get a steady blaze going. After a moment she moved away to fetch herbs from the kitchen cupboards.


	23. Eating Ice Cream

"Ada," said Brenen. "Do people have wolves as animal friends?"

"Sometimes," said Thranduil.

"What about panthers?" Brenen asked.

"Sometimes," said Thranduil.

"Or owls?" Brenen persisted.

"Sometimes," said Thranduil.

Brenen sighed.

"Can I have a pet wolf?" he asked.

"No," said Thranduil.

"Can I have a pet panther?"

"No!" said Thranduil.

"What about an owl?"

"Not yet," said Thranduil.

"Can I have a bowl of ice cream then?"

Thranduil's head jerked up. "Brenen, I am trying to do my work in peace! Out!"

Brenen grinned as he skipped out the door. "I will take that as a yes!"

Thranduil dipped his pen into the inkstand and frowned after his son. But Brenen was beyond the hearing of his shouts. As he placed the pen nib on the paper before him, the door opened and Legolas peeked in.

"Can I ask you something, ada?"

"You have," said Thranduil.

"Do you think Web is all right? He is not back yet and the rain has stopped."

"I am sure he is fine," Thranduil replied. "Go have a bowl of ice cream."

The door banged and Legolas retreated before his father could change his mind. Thranduil smirked. His face turned to a frown as he saw the awful inkblot beneath his pen nib.

* * *

Brenen sat at the base of a tree trunk, in the cool shade and finished the last licks of ice cream from his once over-loaded bowl. He let out a sigh of satisfaction. A bowl appeared in front of his face. Brenen looked at it and blinked before he reached up and took Legolas's bowl. His brother leaned down off his branch to hand it to him before he straightened up, laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back.

Brenen sighed as he stared out at the rippling water of the river. Cool weather was on its way but the air was still warm. Drizzly, dreary rains were in the habit of falling, and the leaves were losing their vibrant colors.

"Where are Realn and Mykar?" Legolas asked, his leg dangling down at Brenen's nose level.

"Naneth roped them in to make social calls," said Brenen with a grin. "You should have seen them in high collars and silk robes. Dolls. Mykar looked right at home though, and his tiara was not crooked."

"It is our turn next," Legolas said gloomily.

"I will run away," Brenen said with venom in his voice as he considered the option with delight in his eyes.

Legolas looked down in alarm. "Please stay. I would die wondering if wolves had eaten you."

"You could come with me," Brenen offered.

Legolas slipped off his branch and came to sit beside Brenen, leaning his head on his brother's shoulder. Even though the quadruplets were minutes apart, Legolas was the smallest of all of them. Perhaps the weeks of abuse had halted his growth. As such, Brenen often made the mistake of treating him like an adorable baby.

"I do not want to run away," Legolas said. "I want to stay home with ada and naneth and my brothers. And muinda's Ciran, Ellhamier, Raileen and Galion. And Jaiz."

"You would name the whole kingdom if you could muster enough breath," Brenen said. He looked at Legolas's neatly combed hair and thought a little guilty of his own tangled locks. Legolas's hair was always neat, no matter how much he ran and wrestled. His, on the other hand, was a bird's nest. Brenen reached over and tousled Legolas's hair. "There; you look more my quadruplet now!"

Legolas grinned. His smile faded and he said, "Do you think Web is all right?"

Brenen shrugged.

"Do you care?"

"Yes," said Brenen. "

"Ada seems to think he is fine," Legolas said despondently.

"I was by the healing wing," said Brenen after a moment's hesitation. "And I heard ada and Healer Helix talking. They said Web was already weak from what he had been through and even in two months he was still weak. Healer Helix said if he was caught in the cold rain of a few days ago, he might have caught a fever or chill. He said—he said Web might not be strong enough to survive it without care and if he was alone . . ."

Legolas's eyes opened wide in horror. "You—you mean he could he lying in the woods _dying_? Or be _dead_?"

"Healer Helix seemed to think so," Brenen said uncomfortably. He felt Legolas shudder beside him and saw him close his eyes. "Ada sent the scouts out to find him but the rain must have washed all scent and traces away."

Legolas swallowed. After a moment he buried his face in Brenen's shoulder and tried to block out the terrible visage of Web dying alone and uncared for or wolves eating his already empty shell. He felt Brenen hug him tight.

"Legolas? Tithen las? Are you hurt?"

Legolas looked up as he saw Cinwe dashing toward him off the path a few feet away, dressed in her green silk dress, her slippers soft against the grass. Behind her came Realn, walking and looking miserable in the high-necked rustling of his robe and Mykar, his head held high, a perfect visage of young royalty. Realn's tiara was crooked; Mykar's sat proudly on his head.

"No, naneth," Legolas replied. "Me and Brenen were just eating ice cream and wondering how Web is."

Cinwe knelt down beside her two sons. "I know you are worried; the healers and your father are worried to. The scouts will find him, Legolas, I promise. He will come back safe and sound. Now come; your father will be done in the office and I am sure Galion is getting impatient for us to come and have the lunch he has served by now."

As Legolas followed his mother, holding her hand, Brenen hissed in his ear as he walked behind his brother, "Legolas! Do not tell ada what I heard him and Helix discussing! He would furious; you know how he hates eavesdropping."

Legolas met Brenen's eyes and grinned. "Eavesdropping? You just happened to be passing by."

Brenen snapped his fingers. "Exactly. But ada never understands."


	24. But Why?

Web groaned and opened his eyes. He felt a cool cloth on his hot forehead but his vision was blurry and he could not focus on the form above him. He heard voices and a wave of terror washed over him. He tried to move but he found himself too hot and weak to struggle and too tired to care. He felt a tear slid down his hot cheek and a cool hand wiped it away.

"Do not cry," said a gentle voice. "I know you do not feel well but it is not that bad." The hand went away. Web whimpered. Cool liquid touched his parched lips and he realized how hungry and thirsty he was. It was not water but some kind of oily broth but he slurped it down, his eyes still closed. When he was done, he flopped back against the pillows and relaxed into sleep.

Above him Anialia carried the empty bowl to the kitchen returned to the main room of the house to peer down at the elfling's flushed face.

"How is he?" Zionel asked, pausing the whittling he was doing on a strong piece of wood.

"The fever is worsening and he is not very strong," Anialia replied. "I am beginning to think the usual method of burning it off is not the best in this case. I wish you had found his parents, Galleon."

"As do I," Galleon replied, looking up from the floor where he was building towers from blocks with Ilune.

Anialia looked at the half-conscious elfling lying in the bed before her. After a moment, she said, "Zionel, play with your sister. Galleon, come help me take these blankets off. If the fever does not subside, it will kill all that is good within him."

* * *

Web cracked his eyes open, curling tighter to stay warm. He felt cold . . . so cold, after the burning hot he had lain in for what seemed like forever. He clenched his teeth together and scrunched into a small ball. He was still on the bed before the fire in the same room but where had all the blankets gone? The straw was damp beneath him and he was drenched in cold sweat.

A hand touched his forehead and Web jerked, his head turning to meet the kind yellow eyes of an elf, his dark hair tumbling over his shoulders. Web stared at him, too frightened to speak.

"It is all right," the elf said. "My name is Galleon. How are you feeling?"

Web did not answer.

"The fever is gone," Galleon said. "Climb out of bed and let me change the sheets."

Web uncurled, shuddering all over and slid out of bed on the opposite side as Galleon. He sat down by the fire and shivered until the heat warmed him and dried the sweat on his clothes and skin. He felt sticky.

"Come and take a cool bathe," Galleon said, placing a hand on Web's shoulder. "The bath is full in the kitchen and you can change into clean clothes while I finish with the bed."

Web glanced up at the tall elf above him and diverted his eyes. After a moment he stumbled to his feet, finding his legs numb after so many days of disuse and followed Galleon's finger to the kitchen door. Another fireplace warmed the kitchen and before it, on the streaked boards, was a big metal tub full of steamy water. Web discarded his clothing and sank into the relaxing liquid with a small sigh. He washed his hair and ran the slimy soap over his arms and legs. After rinsing off, he stepped out of the bath and dried off with the fluffy towel hanging over the back of a nearby chair.

Galleon came through the door as he was tugging the clean shirt over his head. The elf almost halted in the doorway as if the sight of the bruises on his back and stomach horrified him but the shirt came down to cover them and he resumed.

Web followed Galleon out to the main room and sat down with his back to the fireplace. The bed looked fresh and dry, covered with a pink and purple patchwork quilt. Looking at it made him tired again.

"You hair must dry before you can return to bed," Galleon said. He crouched down beside Web. "Can you speak?"

Web blinked. He peeked at Galleon, almost answered, and looked away, unsure of what to say. After a moment he turned his head back around and nodded.

"You can talk," Galleon said.

Web looked at him and nodded again.

"You can talk with me," Galleon clarified.

Web's eyes slid to the ground.

"What is your name?" Galleon asked.

"Web," Web whispered, his voice hoarse.

"Do you have any parents?"

Web seemed to consider the question. He shook his head.

"Do you have a home?" Galleon asked, with growing apprehension.

"The palace healing wing," Web mumbled.

The palace was a ways away. Galleon wondered how Web had found himself so far away from it. If he had a home with the healers but no parents it must mean he was an orphan; the healers looked after the orphans.

"I was caught in the rain," Web said, as if he could read minds.

"I know," Galleon replied. He sat down as he noticed a tremor running through the elfling's body and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Web stiffened before he relaxed against Galleon's warm side, resting his damp head on his shoulder.

"How long have I been here?" Web asked.

"About six days."

"D-do I have to go back _there_?"

"To the healing wing? Yes. I am sure they are worried about you." Galleon felt a flash of doubt. He knew most of the healers. None of them, he was sure, would—could—be responsible for the marks of cruelty all over this child . . . could they? Web's tone suggested the healing wing was more of a dreaded prison. Had he run away?

"As soon as you are strong enough, I will take you home," Galleon said. Web did not answer. When Galleon looked down, he was asleep, tears leaking out from under his closed lashes.

* * *

Anialia regarded Web with interest. The elfling was sitting up in bed, devouring a bowl of hot soup.

"He certainly seems much better," she remarked. "And it is good you found out where he lives."

Galleon finished his breakfast with a slow nod, unable to shake off the memory of Web's pathetic face against his shoulder. He slid off the bench and beckoned to Zionel. "Come on, ion. We have wood to cut."

Zionel followed his father out to the pile of knarred stumps and logs out back that had to be split into burnable pieces with the sharp axe. He sat down on the low stonewall running around the house back while Galleon took up the axe. It would be his turn soon anyway. He watched his father split stumps into pieces, his muscles rippling and the axe making sound cracks against the cutting block as the smaller pieces fell around it.

Zionel sighed.

"Is there something on your mind? You have been more preoccupied lately," Galleon said.

Zionel straightened up. "So you noticed . . . I was actually waiting for today; I wanted to be alone with you. I-have a few questions for you."

"Ask away," Galleon invited as the axe head soared through another stump.

"It is about Web," Zionel said slowly. "He has so many bruises . . . where did they come from?"

The axe head came to rest on the ground. Galleon leaned on the handle and looked at his son. "Have you thought about it?"

Zionel looked uncomfortable. "Yes, I have. But—well—I hardly like to believe my answer to be true."

Galleon came to sit beside his son. "You know how babies are made, ion. I guess you are ready to know this. His parents gave him those bruises, son."

Zionel looked down at his hands. "Yes . . . but why?"

Galleon considered the best way to explain the mysteries of child abuse to young minds. "Well, think of Web as the cutting block for wood. Instead of cutting wood, his parents cut him. We cut wood to keep the fires going. His parents hit him to keep their fires going. Maybe it seemed to them Web had done something wrong and needed to be punished. Abusive people hit for no reason, Zionel. They simply cannot control themselves. Web could have burned himself and the tears he shed would have been enough to make his parents fall on him."

Zionel blinked. "It—it is not one of the healers, is it? They are supposed to heal people not beat little elflings."

Galleon rose to his feet. "I know it is bothering you; it bothers me to. You finish cutting the wood and I will step up to the palace and find out what I can."

Zionel nodded but he sat on the stonewall for a long time, watching his father go. After a moment he got up and cut wood with vigor. Perhaps he imagined the stump to be the invisible presence of the people who had harmed the helpless, half-dead elfling lying inside the house.

When the pile of split wood came up to his knees, Zionel laid aside the axe, stacked up a pile of wood on one arm, and took it inside to his mother. Anialia looked up from the pot of simmering broth over the kitchen fireplace.

"I do not hear the axe," she said. "Where is your father?"

"He went up to the palace," Zionel replied. As he headed for the door, Anialia grabbed his arm.

Zionel sighed. "Yes, I will play with Ilune."

"No, not that," Anialia said with an amused smile. She looked worried. "Go sit with Web and see if you can cheer him up. I stepped out back a few moments ago to throw out the dishwater and, when I came back inside, I noticed he looks miserable. It breaks my heart to see him sitting in shadows, it really does."

Zionel nodded and stepped out into the main room. Ilune was sitting on the floor, coloring pieces of paper with lines and squiggles. Zionel walked past his sister and sat down in the chair beside Web's bed. Web turned his eyes away from the fire to look at him.

"Hello," Zionel said. He felt the urge to ask a million questions about Web's family but common sense told him it would disturb the elfling so he said instead, "Feeling better?"

Web blinked. "A little," he murmured in a voice so small Zionel had to strain his ears to hear him.

Zionel did not get the feeling Web was inviting company. But he knew what his mother meant; Web sat in silence, his eyes dull, staring at the fire as though life did not exist. He attempted to tug the elfling out of his shell.

"Want to pet Briar?"

The name seemed to spark something in Web's eyes but then it died. Zionel whistled and his wolf friend slunk out of his bedroom. If he had wished for a response, Zionel could not have been disappointed for Web shrieked at the sight of the wolf and tumbled out of bed. He scrambled backward into the corner and huddled against the wall, whimpering softly.

Zionel coughed a little self-consciously as Anialia shot out of the kitchen, her hands covered in flour, yelling, "Zionel! What have you done to him? Be gentle!"

A flush spread across Zionel's face but he did not answer. He felt a little guilty for frightening Web but he had not known the elfling would react the way he had. Briar was looking at Web with interest, his ears pricked up the animalistic whimpers he heard. Zionel dove for him, yelling, "Briar!" but the wolf had already made it to Web and was sniffing him.

The whimpering stopped as Web froze, his face buried in his knees, not daring to utter a sound as he felt the warm breath on his hair. He felt Zionel touch his hand and, thinking only to escape the animal sure to eat him, he scrambled past Briar and into Zionel's arms. There he curled tight against his chest, eyes squeezed shut.

Zionel was a little surprised as he felt Web dive into his arms. As the shock wore off, he realized the poor child was shuddering. He wrapped his arms around him and held him, resting his cheek on Web's hair. Web was a lot bigger then Ilune and it felt good to cuddle him.

"D-do not l-let it e-eat me," Web stammered.

"Briar will not eat you," Zionel said warmly. "He is my friend; he lives with us. He likes you."

"Really?" Web asked, his voice muffled in Zionel's shirt.

"I promise," Zionel said.

Web shifted and peeked over his shoulder at Briar. The wolf sat on his hunches; tongue out, staring at Web with his head cocked to one side. As Web looked at him, the wolf rose and Web whipped his head back in Zionel's shoulder.

"He wants you to pet him," Zionel said gently.

Web peeked at Briar again. As the warm, rough tongue ran over his cheek, he reached out a hand and touched the wolf. He moved to face Briar, still sitting in Zionel's lap.

The door opened and Galleon walked in. He stopped short in the door behind his wife, her hands still flour-coated, with an odd smile on her face. He stared at Zionel, Web, and Briar, the soft smile on Web's face a new ray of sunshine.

"Anialia," he said.

Anialia seemed to jerk back to reality. Without returning the greeting, she exclaimed, "My stars, the bread!" And fled to the kitchen.

Galleon shut the door and went to sit in the easy chair. Without remarking on the sight before him, he simply asked, "Zionel, did you finish cutting the wood?" And picked up Ilune as she climbed into his lap to show him her drawings.


	25. Office Work

Brenen sat out on the balcony railing, dangling his legs down over the side, a beam of fall sunshine in his hair. He licked the last of the sticky honey candy from his fingers and looked at Mykar with a satisfied sigh.

Mykar barely glanced up from the pages of his book. Brenen frowned.

"You make great company," he grumbled.

"Thank you," said Mykar primly.

"Hey! Look!" Brenen exclaimed, leaning forward and endangering his possibility of falling from the falling to the ground below. The balcony looked out over the river, sticking out from the palace to the left of the great doors and the bridge.

Mykar glanced up and saw an elf crossing the bridge, dressed in a dark leather tunic and even darker colored leggings. His stride was firm and his arms swung at his side.

"Galleon!" the guards greeted him. "We have not seen you since the last order of lumber; no one cuts it finer then you!"

"Enough time has passed since then," Galleon agreed. "It was quite a turn to hear Prince Legolas had burned down his room and more wood was needed to repair it."

The guards exchanged grins. "What business do you have here today?"

"I need to see the healers," Galleon said.

One guard held up a hand. "Wait; let me guess . . . Either Zionel has buried the axe in his leg again or Ilune has fallen on her face."

Galleon grinned as he hurried past but did not present the reason for seeing the healers.

Mykar grabbed Brenen's robe and jerked him back as Brenen swayed and came close to falling. Undaunted, Brenen slid off the railing and announced as he jogged to the door, "I am following Galleon! Come on!"

He jerked Mykar along by the wrist as he ran, too excited at the prospect of shadowing Galleon to notice Mykar was stumbling after him, his nose still in his book.

"Ada will punish us if he finds out we are spying on a conversation conducted privately between a civilian and a professional healer," Mykar whined as he finally closed his book and realized what Brenen was doing.

"So what?" Brenen said.

"I do not like being punished," Mykar complained. "He takes away my books."

"They should be taken away more often," Brenen said. "You can flee but I want to test my shadowing skills. I have been out in the woods practicing and practicing my stalking and now I want to see how good it is!"

"Humph!" said Mykar but he made no move to turn around.

Brenen came to a halt in the corner beside the door to the head healer's office. It was open and he pricked up his ears, straining to hear the conversation inside.

"—Express my concern in the matter." That was Galleon.

"And I thank you for coming to me," replied the head of the healing wing, her voice cool and calming. "We have been worried about his condition for a while now."

 _Rot_ , thought Brenen. _All this way and we get to listen to the condition of a patient! How boring_.

"We feared he may be dead," the head continued and Brenen's ears pricked up. "The King and Queen have been as worried as we were. My relief is great to know he is safe and recovered from his sickness."

"We noticed he was weak from the start," Galleon said. "The fever nearly killed him."

"Your wife, Anialia, could have been a great healer," said the head. "She showed great promise. She is better, even, then me. But I respected my daughter's choice to marry you."

"And she never regretted it," Galleon said.

"I will talk with the King about the situation you have brought to my attention," the head said. "Before I reach out to you with an answer. Most likely, he will be brought back here as soon as he is strong enough to be moved without risk. Until then, I ask you to keep him."

"It would be our pleasure," Galleon replied. "Thank you. But before I leave, I cannot help but ask . . ."

"No doubt you express concern over his bruises," the head said. "They are many months old, collected over years of abuse. I do not like to speak for Web so I will only say the person responsible no longer has access or rights to him."

"He is an orphan," Galleon said softly.

"Regretfully, yes. As you know, we let orphans wander the wood in hopes they will chance upon a family to love them. And after several years in the event they are not so lucky, they enter into the apprenticeship of one of the Tradesmasters. It is not a common occurrence for an orphan to be alone all their lives and I pray it is not the fate Web will have. He deserves a lot more for what he has suffered."

"Indeed. I must be on my way now, Malian. You know where to find me."

Brenen heard footsteps as Galleon crossed the office room but he was long gone, jerking Mykar along behind him as he fled toward Thranduil's office. Several guards looked at him with interest as he passed. The office was empty so he rushed to the family dining room, blundering into the room, crashing into Cinwe and yelling as he tripped to the floor and sat down hard on Cinwe's stomach, "Web is alive!"

"Oof!" said Cinwe with a grunt. "I was looking for you; you are late to lunch!"

"Sorry," said Brenen. He jumped to his feet and waved his arms. "But Web is alive!"

"We heard you the first time, ion," Thranduil said. He, Legolas, Realn, Raileen, and Ellhamier were sitting around the table, evidently waiting for the food to be uncovered.

Brenen scrambled into his seat with a quick hand over his hair to smoothen it. Mykar sat down in silence, nudging his book under the table with his boot before Thranduil could see it. Cinwe sat down and said, "Well!"

"Where did you hear about Web?" Legolas asked with interest.

"We were in the healing wing," Brenen explained.

Mykar squirmed. In the healing wing was not exactly a lie, was it? He did so hate withholding truths from his parents; it made him feel queer and every look they gave him while he knew something untold made him feel as though he were tied in knots.

"Is something bothering you?" Cinwe asked.

"We were—err-passing by the Head's office," Mykar volunteered, blushing as Brenen scowled at him. "And we heard something of interest so we stopped to listen."

"You were eavesdropping," Thranduil said with a frown.

"No," said Brenen.

"Brenen!" Cinwe exclaimed.

Brenen looked at her earnestly. "But it is true. We were not eavesdropping; there were no eaves."

Ellhamier, the butter dish in hand, dropped it as he exploded into a loud fit of chuckles. Raileen rescued the butter dish with a soft pillow of air that carried it to safe ground. Thranduil dropped his forehead onto his hand with a small groan.

"All right," he said. "You were spying. Hiding and listening to something you were not supposed to hear."

"But that is not true either," Brenen said, urged on by Ellhamier's chuckles. "We were not hiding. Anyone could have seen us if they looked through the crack of the door. And if we were not meant to hear, the door would have been closed properly."

"Does no one care we found out where Web is even if we were spying?" Mykar asked loudly.

"Of course we care," Thranduil said. "But—"

"But we have got to be punished," Mykar said, managing to keep a straight face.

"It does not take much wisdom to know that," Cinwe said. "And as soon as lunch is over, I am taking away every book in your room! You can help me with fall cleaning straight off!"

Mykar rose to his feet and snapped to attention. He bowed deeply in the direction of a suspicious Thranduil and said, "Ada, it is with solemnness I request to name my punishment."

Cinwe blinked. "And no doubt it will be a bowl of ice cream. Nothing doing. Sit back down."

Thranduil waved his wife away. "Very well, Mykar. I am listening."

"As my punishment, I respectfully request the horrors of cleaning out the mess of your office," Mykar said.

"Are you out of your mind?" Brenen demanded, making spirals by the side of his head. "That is an awful job! I had to do it once and it was sheer torture!"

Mykar ignored Brenen. Cinwe forked down a mouthful of meat with a smirk as she eyed her husband. "Well, Thrandy, dear, how can you argue with that?"

"Very well," Thranduil said. "You can start after lunch, Mykar. I assume you know how?"

"Yes, ada. Please excuse me for one minute?"

Mykar slipped out into the hall but even there his shriek of "YES!" could be heard long and clear. He reentered the room; hands folded, face a peaceful expression of serenity and seated himself, not seeming to notice the frozen expressions of the people sitting around him.

After lunch Thranduil took Mykar down to his office and left his son to do his work. He came back to the dining room to see Cinwe down on her hands and knees, peering under the long tablecloth by Mykar's chair. She came up with a huge volume in her hand and her lips pursed.

"That son of ours," she said, as she held up the Office Work manual. "He has just reached the chapter dealing with organization."

"That explains his sudden desire to clean my office," Thranduil said. He noticed his three other sons had already left the room in the company of Ellhamier.

"Hir nin?"

Thranduil turned around. "Ah, Head Malian. Come in."

"It is about Web," the woman said, her white robes swishing as she dipped a quick courtesy. "He is with Galleon, the woodcutter, and his family, recovering from a terrible case of fever. I thought he could stay there until he is strong enough to be moved without risk. I am sending Healer Helix down to the house in a few minutes to assess Web's condition and I thought it best to inform you in person. Forgive me for intruding at this time."

"Not at all," Thranduil said. "Thank you."


	26. The Day My Mother Slapped The King

Web yawned as he crawled into his bed and lay down on his stomach, his cheek against the pillow. Anialia leaned over him to deliver a kiss and pull up the blankets. She stepped back and glanced at her husband and son, engaged in a serious game of checkers and put her finger to her lips for Ilune was taking her nap as well.

Galleon and Zionel nodded. But no sooner had Anialia stepped away then a loud knock sounded on the door and everyone rushed to the door to silence the knocker before he could knock again.

Galleon eased the door to step any creaks. The elf outside dipped over at the waist, dark bangs covering his forehead down to his yellow eyes. He was dressed in the white and gold of a healer.

"Good afternoon," he said. "I am Healer Helix, sent to assess the condition of Web. May I come in?"

"Yes, but keep the voice down," Anialia said, "My daughter and Web are sleeping."

Helix stepped into the house, his footsteps soft on the floor. Anialia gestured to the bed. "I hope you can do your examination while he sleeps. Try not to wake him."

Briar, nose on his paws, lying under Web's bed, lifted his face and growled. Zionel put a finger to his lips and shook his head and the wolf quieted.

"It will not be a problem," Helix assured Anialia as he crossed to the bed.

Galleon shut the door and returned to his game with Zionel. Anialia migrated into the kitchen to check on the biscuits in the oven and take a piece of meat out of the meat safe for dinner.

Healer Helix finished his examination and came to stand beside Zionel as they finished their checker game. Galleon beckoned him into the kitchen and shut the door.

"Well?" he said. Zionel leaned back against the door to listen.

"Web has recovered well in your care," Helix replied. "But he is still weak and if we move him back to the healing wing now, the crisp air may reawaken the illness. I must ask you to keep Web until he is definitely stronger and can be taken home safely."

Anialia laid down the knife in her hands beside the chunks of meat and wiped her bloody hands on her apron before she picked up the knife and resumed chopping.

"The court offers you a sum of gold in return for the time you take to look after Web," Helix continued. He was about to name the sum but Anialia rammed the knife into the wood chopping board and the sound cut him off. Zionel also leapt forward but Galleon caught his arm.

Anialia took a minute to collect herself before she turned to the startled Healer with fury in her eyes. Her voice was cold and icy and the blood from the meat staining her hands and apron gave her a demonic look.

"Healer," she said. "You can turn around and leave my house before I make mincemeat of you! What kind of people do you take us for? I thought better of you; of the whole royal court! People who accept your money to foster the few orphans there are want the money alone. They do not care about the elfling in need of love; he is simply a form of solid gold! We, Helix, are not like that! Now get out before I think twice and really do turn you into steak!"

"Ilune is sleeping, my love," Galleon struggled to keep a straight face as he said it. Anialia gave him a withering look.

Zionel stared at his mother; he had never seen her so angry in all his years as her son.

"The king," began Helix, looking ruffled by the sudden hurricane.

"Oh yes, the king!" said Anialia. "I knew him; even courted him! I have a good mind to march up to the palace and give him a tight slap in the face! Galleon, throw this insult out of our house!"

Healer Helix made a dash for the kitchen door before Galleon could come at him. "I-I will be on my way; my business here is done." He fled across the floor and escaped out the front door, leaving it open behind him. Zionel closed it after a long look at the departing healer. He turned around as he heard Galleon laughing and beheld the sight of his father doubled over with laughter.

"It is no laughing matter," Anialia said stiffly.

"It has been a long time since I saw you in such a mood," Galleon said, wiping the tears off his face.

"No one has put me in such a mood for a while yet," Anialia replied. "But I must say, what can have happened to the state of the kingdom if Thranduil thinks it is excusable to dole out money for the care of children in need of love! If there is one thing he ought to know money cannot buy love!"

"Oh, and you are, of course, an expert on the king," Galleon said haughtily.

"We were involved for a while," Anialia said with an even haughtier look.

"I had no idea," Zionel said.

Anialia waved him away. "Of course it never occurred to your little mind your mother had a _life_ before she married this woodcutter." And she pulled Galleon's hair.

"Err," Zionel coughed. "It—ah—never occurred to me you—ah—had the—err—talents to attract the king."

"Talents!" said Anialia. "Kings are not all interested in slim, stunningly beautiful woman. At least ours is not. Which is why I wonder at the state of things. How things must have changed up at the palace."

"I believe it was invaded by four demons with identical faces," Galleon said with a thoughtful expression. "But do tell when you intend to pop up there and smack the king in the face. It would be too priceless to miss!"

"The day my mother slapped the king," Zionel said, as though the idea was hysterical. He shot out of the kitchen as he realized Anialia did not appreciate his humor.

Zionel sat down in the chair beside Web's bed and stared at the back of his dark head half covered by the blanket. He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back. He could hear his parents talking in the kitchen and could almost see naneth leaning down to pull the biscuits out of the oven while ada sat on the counter and watched her but he was not in the mood to listen to what they were saying.

Web rolled over onto his back, rubbing his bleary eyes and sat up. He looked at Zionel and blinked twice to clear the fuzziness from his eyes.

"Hey," said Zionel. "It is nearly dinnertime."

Web took a minute to appreciate the smell of fluffy biscuits as Anialia walked out the kitchen with a mug in her hands. She handed it to Web and watched him drink.

"It does not taste as bad as the other teas," Web said, as he handed the mug back.

"This is a different herb," Anialia said. "Giving you anymore of the ginjali could make you sick."

"Oh." Web blinked.

"Zionel, set the table," Anialia called as she made her way back to the kitchen.

Zionel dragged himself out of the chair. "I never get to be lazy," he grumbled.

Web sat in bed and watched Zionel laying out the plates and silverware. He had grown used to seeing Galleon and his family eating together but he always ate alone in bed. He was a little startled when Galleon came up to him and asked, "Would you like to join us?"

"Ah . . ." The thought of being surrounded by people he was still coming to trust made him nervous. He hung his head. "No . . ."

Galleon looked at him sympathetically but had the grace not to insist. Instead he brought Web a plate of food and went to the table to join his wife and son; Ilune was still asleep and Anialia intended to leave that way through morning.

Web finished his food and lay down in the warmth of his bed. He drifted in and out of sleep, catching scrapes of conversation. One tidbit jerked him back to reality and his eyes opened wide. He had not realized . . . he felt a tear swell up in his eyes. No! He did not want to . . . his mind drifted to the memory of the ginjali balls floating in past mugs of tea, bitter in taste as he fell asleep.

* * *

As the days passed with merited slowness, Web sat up in the chair by the fire, engaged in the earnest process of rubbing Briar. He was not improving in any way but he seemed stronger, though he sank in and out of deep sleep and faint nightmares from which he woke up shrieking.

And on one such night Web lay awake in bed, too frightened to sleep and too tired to stay awake. His stomach felt as though someone had shaken it roughly. He was shivering with the memories of a past nightmare, perhaps awakened by what he had overheard at the dinner table a few nights back, when Zionel came out of his room to feed the fire.

"Web?" Zionel exclaimed softly, seeing the shuddering form.

"I-I a-am all right," Web said shakily.

"Was it another nightmare?" Zionel asked, leaning over him, his warm shadow blocking out the fire.

"Sort of," Web replied.

Zionel pursed his lips as he moved to feed the fire. It did not feel right to leave Web alone in the dark but what could he do? He looked back at the curled up form.

"Come sleep with me," he said.

Web's shivering stopped, stilled by the unexpected offer. He twisted with a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. "R-really?"

Zionel pushed open the door to his room. "Yes; come on before the sheets grow cold with my absence!"

Web hesitated for a split second before he slid out of bed and followed Zionel, his arms wrapped around him. Zionel's room was big and empty, holding the bed set close to the warm chimney, a table, a chest of draws, and a window. Zionel hopped into bed and slid back to make room for Web. Web climbed up next to him and lay down with his eyes to the far wall. He curled up under the blankets, wondering if Zionel's presence would help with his nightmares.

* * *

The first thing Anialia noticed when she came out of her room was Web's empty bed. Her mouth fell open and she worried the elfling had run away but her husband beckoned her from the door to Zionel's room. Scooping up Ilune, she rushed to join him.

"I too noticed Web was gone so I went to wake Zionel and see if he knew anything," Galleon said. "But look."

Anialia peered into the room and a small smile graced her face. There was not one person in her son's but two, cuddled close together. Web's small face was buried in the crook of Zionel's neck and Zionel had his arms around Web beneath he blankets.

"I will make breakfast," Anialia said at last, and she swung the door shut to keep Ilune out of the room.

* * *

Web opened his eyes and wondered where he was.

"Morning," Zionel said sleepily from beside him.

Web jumped. And it all came rushing back.

"Breakfast is probably ready," Zionel continued. "We should get up."

Web swallowed. What would Anialia and Galleon say when he came out of Zionel's room?

His face must have said a lot because Zionel took one glance at it and said, "It is all right, Web; my parents will not be angry with you for sleeping with me. I did invite you."

Zionel's voice was reassuring and it calmed his fear as Web climbed out of bed. Zionel rolled out of his side and made the bed before he moved to change. Web had gone to sleep in his clothes so he had no need to change. Zionel flung his discarded clothes onto the bed and bounded across the room, flinging open the door and announcing, "Good morning!"

"And look who is up late," Galleon teased from his seat at the table. "I have been up since dawn, getting many things accomplished."

Zionel noticed Web looking uncomfortable behind him and turned to give the elfling a supportive hand to hold. Web cringed as he saw Galleon looking at him. He climbed into the seat of the armchair and bunched himself into a tight ball. Zionel looked at him with a small sigh and went to sit down at the table.

The minute he sat down, Galleon poked his arm with his fork. His father leaned close and said, "Go ask him if he wants to eat with us."

Zionel dragged himself away from the warm smells of food. He knelt down by the lonely orphan boy and looked up into his eyes. "Do you want to come eat with us?"

Web shook his head and curled tighter. He felt Zionel take his hands.

"Please," Zionel said coaxingly. "You can sit beside me. I do not want to supervise Ilune's eating another day!"

Web glanced up. He remembered the warmth of Zionel's arms and the quiet, gentle kindness of the night. He remembered the deep, undisturbed sleep. He remembered the gentle smiles and voices of the people around him, the smiles and the grins. None of it made him think of the dark cellar, the chains and the pain that had haunted his early years. He felt Zionel squeeze his hand. How hard could it be to sit at a table? After a moment, he slid out of the chair and followed Zionel. His courage almost deserted him as he came close to the table but he felt it would be worst to flee back to the shadows of the armchair so he forced himself to sit down beside Zionel. Anialia and Galleon smiled a gracious and almost relieved welcome and tactfully left him in silence for the rest of the meal.

And Web discovered it was not all bad. He left the table feeling satisfied and full, exchanging the bench for the comforts of the armchair.


	27. Honey Tassies

Legolas caught the ball of fire, halting its progress toward him inches from his outstretched palm and tossed it back to Thranduil. His father bounced it back to him with a swift, precise movement.

"I know Zionel," Brenen said. He stood to Legolas's left, dueling with Realn. "Me and him have played many games together and stalked the woods. He knows of excellent trees to sit in."

"Is he nice?" Legolas asked.

"Very," Brenen said, hurling a wide arc of flame at the dirt a few feet ahead of him. The flames bounced up and shot toward Realn. "I had lunch with his parents one day. It was too late to come home anyway. Where is Mykar?"

"Reading Office Work," Realn answered, banishing Brenen's attack with a sweep of his hand and countering it with his own wall of flame.

"How did he do, cleaning out your office?" Brenen asked, with a hint of mischief in his eyes as he glanced at his father, cutting a safe hole in the wall of fire as it rushed past him.

"I never saw it cleaner," Thranduil replied.

"I suppose he might be cut out for such work," Brenen said thoughtfully. "I say, ada, since office cleaning is high on your list of punishments, and since Mykar likes to do it and none of the rest of us do, I suppose you might consider reserving it only for him?"

"Certainly," said Thranduil. "I will put you on the list for mucking out the stables."

Brenen hurled a ball of flame at the ground with a scream of despair. "Arg!"

Legolas grinned, taking a step back as he almost lost control over the ball of flame flying toward him. He looked a little wistfully at the intensity of his brothers' fire as it shot back and forth, eying the moves he could not yet accomplish. He thought with longing of the complicated gestures compared to the simplicity of playing pats the ball back and forth.

"We started out with early moves to, little brother," Brenen said haughtily, seeing his face. "We are now, of course, above such things." He grinned as Legolas scowled at him and yelped, leaping back as Realn took the opportunity to hurl a shower of flaming missiles at his feet.

"You will reach higher levels of flexibility and power over time, Legolas," Thranduil said kindly. "It takes time and practice and a lot of patience to reach your ambitious goals."

Legolas thought. "So if I practice for the whole of the day for three days, will you teach me a new move sooner? Let me see . . . if we practice for two hours every day and you will not teach me anything new for another fourteen days, that is twenty-eight hours. You can teach me a new move in three days if I practice all day for the next two!"

"Shortcuts," said Thranduil, "Are not an option."

"I tried," Brenen informed Legolas. "It was not any use."

"It will be tea time soon," Realn said.

"We will hear the bell," Thranduil said.

As he said it, the peal of the summoning bell rang out and Legolas let the ball of fire die in the air at his palm. He dropped his arms. Brenen and Realn exchanged a last explosion of flame and came to stand beside Thranduil.

"I wonder what is for tea," Brenen said as he followed Thranduil out of the courtyard, toward the palace.

"I heard rumors it was delicious raspberry tassies made with preserves," Realn said.

"But Galion told me it was lemon," Legolas argued.

Brenen made a face. "Yec! I was down in the kitchens and I happen to know it is honey tassies."

"That explains where the entire tray of cookies went to yesterday," Thranduil said with a stern look at his son. "I received an annoyed and furious Glarier in my office yesterday."

Brenen kicked a rock. "Tight-fisted Head Cook . . . I guess I will go muck out the stables after tea . . ."

Realn grinned. "All I can say is you are not sleeping with me."

Cinwe and Mykar were sitting in the dining room, around the table when Thranduil came in. Both turned to greet him.

"How was fire-bending?" Cinwe asked as Legolas sat down.

"Not too bad," Legolas answered, breathing in the smell of lemon well soaked in sugar and baked in flaky pastry cups. "I am still on the beginner's moves."

"What happened to the honey tassies?" Brenen asked in dismay as he pulled up his chair and eyed the table.

"I was informed," said Cinwe, with a critical eye on her son, "By Galion the kitchen's fresh supply _disappeared_." She held out her hands as though the concept must be magical. "Just like that."

Brenen held up his hands. "I admit to eating the tray of cookies left out on the window to cool . . . to tempting to resist when I was sitting right below. I ate one every now and again and before you knew it, they were gone! And I am already mucking out the stables for it but I never touched the tassies."

"How mysterious," Cinwe agreed. She reached for the coffee pot ad poured Thranduil a mug.

"How is your book coming along?" Brenen asked Mykar.

Mykar brightened. "I have reached chapter seventy two of one hundred and ninety nine. It is fascinating."

"I never found work to be fascinating," Brenen said. "But since you find it so fulfilling, what about mucking out the stable for me?"

Mykar stared at him. "No thanks. It is your punishment for stealing the cookies so you will have to work it off while I sit in peace and read my book."

"I was _eating_ them," Brenen returned. "Not stealing them. It is compliment to the cook I even wanted to eat them! Besides, he ought to have more sense! Leaving them out on the window was an invitation. I am sure somewhere in the kind confines of his heart he put them there especially for me, even if he did not know it at the time."

"It will be fun to watch you explain that to him," Mykar said with a grin as he savored the mouthful of lemony sweetness in his mouth. As he swallowed, he turned to his father. "There are several things I hoped you could explain to me after tea in the Office Book."

Thranduil nodded. But after tea when he went to sit in the arm chair in the living room and relax, and Mykar brought him the tome, he made a startling discovery. Mykar opened the book to a marked page, the top neatly folded over, and pointed to a line. Thranduil glanced at it as he unfolded the page mark and looked with confusion at his fingers. They were sticky . . . with honey.

"It says," Mykar began. He stopped as Thranduil shut the book and escorted him to the door.

"It says," said Thranduil. "That you ate a certain stock of honey tassies. And the stables are waiting."

Mykar grumbled as he slouched out the door. "I knew I should have used a napkin." He knew Brenen would never let him live up to it when he found out, especially when he had to help him shovel out the stables.


	28. Running Away

Web lay on his stomach, his head on his hands on the floor before the hearth. He heard the solid sounds of Zionel's axe outside, splitting wood. Anialia was in the kitchen, making stew while her husband stood outside in the chilly fall air with his son.

Ilune waved her paper in his face and Web jerked back to reality. He took the drawing as Ilune gurgled and looked at him with a cocked head as she chewed on the end of her red wax crayon. Red stained her lips and chin.

Web looked at the squiggles on the paper. He looked at Ilune with a doubtful expression. He was not sure she should be chewing on the crayon but he did not feel like taking it away and making her cry. Anialia would not be happy. The thought of being targeted with displeasure made him cringe inwardly.

Anialia came out of the kitchen to take a quick look in his direction with her wooden spoon in hand, stained with juices from the spicy smelling stew pot. Web mustered his courage and asked, "Can she chew on the crayon?"

"It will not do her any harm, being made mostly of wax and colored with beet juices," Anialia said as she stepped back into the kitchen. "It is fine."

Web relaxed. Ilune shoved a crayon into his hand and ran hers across the white sheet of paper in front of her. Web joined her with his, making loops and spirals across the length of the paper.

Web noticed the sound of the axe had faded into nothing. He looked up as the door opened and Ilune abandoned him, running for her father. Galleon avoided her, as his arms were full of split wood as he carried it into the kitchen and stacked it by the fireplace. Ilune followed after him. Zionel carried his wood across to the fireplace heating the main room and deposited it. He looked over his shoulder at Web.

"Come sit with me and I will show you how to play checkers," he said.

Web scrambled to his feet but sank down to his knees with a groan as a wash of dizziness hit him. He fell backward and hit the floor but the world was spinning so crazily he felt not the impact. He groaned, Zionel's face spinning above him in a blur. He could hear running feet and Anialia shouting but blackness swooped in across his vision.

Zionel had seen Web collapse and he had been the first one at the elfling's side. His parents rushed from the kitchen, he looked up at his mother with worried eyes, Web's head in his lap.

"He fainted," he said.

Anialia knelt beside him and felt Web's forehead. "He has no fever. I do hope there is no internal bleeding. After years of being shut away in a cellar and suffering the cruelty of Eigil, he may be damaged inside."

"No!" Zionel cried. He knew internal bleeding could be fatal and the sudden idea of losing Web was too much for him to bear. His parents looked at him, startled, but he was cradling Web to his chest and praying hard to the valar there was no internal damaged. Galleon and Anialia exchanged looks.

"I will put him to bed," Anialia said. "Bring him to your room, Zionel. Galleon, stir the stew and make sure Ilune does not take it into her head to burn herself."

Galleon departed with a last look at his son as Zionel rose to his feet with Web in his arms and followed his mother across the room. Web's face looked pale, the old bruises standing out against his skin.

Anialia pulled the blankets on Zionel's bed down, taking a quick survey of the room. As always, it was neat. Zionel leaned down and slid Web to the bed with gentleness Anialia found startling again. She tucked the blankets around the unconscious elfling.

"I will sit with him," Zionel said, planting himself on the edge of the bed. "He might someone if he wakes up."

"Thank you," Anialia said. Her face captured by a thought in her mind, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Zionel listened to Web's breathing; afraid he might suffocate or suddenly stop breathing in life. As he listened to the calming sound, he tried to sort out his emotions. Upon hearing Web might be damaged inside, he felt worry but stronger then he would have expected to feel for anyone other then his own family. Somehow, over the days, Web had become closer to him then he had expected until he was almost a . . . brother. It was hard to bear for Zionel knew Web had to return to the healing wing as soon as he was well. He had tried to treat Web only as a friend for he did not want to grow to close to the orphan boy knowing he would be a part of his life for a short time but fate had other plans, it would seem.

He looked at Web and ran a hand over his cheek, wondering how Web felt. Would it break his heart to leave Zionel and his family? Zionel buried his face in his hands and rested his elbows on his knees. He could not see inside Web's head or undo what had been done. But he knew he would feel as though a piece of his heart had been cut out when Web left.

* * *

Web opened his eyes with a small groan. He felt Zionel shift beside him and lay still. He wriggled to the side of the bed and slipped out from under the covers. The air was chilly so he hurried into the main room and stood for a minute by the dying fire in the hearth to warm up. He crossed the room to the kitchen and went in. The chimney of the kitchen fire warmed Anialia, Galleon's, and Ilune's room but the fire there was also burning low, unable to drive back the cold.

Web stilled his nervous hands. Even after doing this for the past few nights, he still felt a bit guilty and every noise made him start. He clenched his teeth as he opened the low cupboard to the left of the sink and reached for the bottle inside.

The kitchen door opened and Web froze, whirling around. The blood drained from his face and the cold hand of terror wrapped around his heart. Galleon stood in the doorway, staring at him with wide eyes, in his blue dressing gown.

As Galleon came toward him, Web back up feeling as though the world had come to an end. He hit the counter behind him and cringed back.

"What were you doing?" Galleon asked.

"N-nothing," Web stammered.

"I saw the bottle you were reaching for," Galleon said. "Do not lie to me!"

Web froze as he heard the anger in Galleon's voice. His eyes slid to the floor, unable to meet the smoldering gaze targeted on him. Galleon banged the cupboard door close. The small show of anger escaping in violence brought terror to Web's pounding heart. For a moment he was back in the dark cellar and Eigil was coming toward him.

He fled, bursting past Galleon. The door to outside was right before his grasping hand but the sound of running feet behind him stopped and a hand, strengthened by woodcutting, grabbed him and held him fast.

Web shrieked and fought against the elf, the comfort and safety he had felt torn away in his fear. His hands clawed and his teeth snarled but Galleon held him tight. He was dragged across the room and shoved into the armchair by a grim Galleon. As the tall elf stood over him, his shadow shattered Web's confidence. He curled into a tight ball and sobbed.

Two doors flew open. Zionel rushed out from one and Anialia came from the other, disheveled and holding a sleepy Ilune.

"Web," said Galleon in a tone Web had never heard. "Tell me why you were in the kitchen and how long you have been eating the ginjali."

Anialia gasped and her hand went to her mouth.

Web shook his head. He could not tell his reasons.

"You will answer me now, Web, or you are going back to the healers!" Galleon snapped.

Web's shoulders shook.

"Ada!" Zionel cried. He pushed Galleon back. "You are terrifying him! He has suffered terrible abuse and your tone is not what he needs to answer you!"

Galleon drew in a deep breath. Anialia set Ilune down and rushed to the kitchen to check the jar of ginjali. She came back with the open bottle and a pale face.

"He has eaten half the bottle," she said. "No wonder he fainted!"

Galleon knelt down beside the armchair. The firelight flickered over Web's skinny arms and shaking shoulders. He reached out and slid his arms around the elfling and pulled him down into his lap. Web shuddered, whimpering. Briar raised his head from the hearthrug at the sound and pricked his ears.

"I am sorry I yelled," Galleon said gently. "You know ginjali will make you sick. So why? Why would you eat it?"

Web drew in a deep breath, feeling it pound against the inside of his ribs as he quaked in Galleon's arms, his face hidden in the warmth of Galleon's robe. He felt a hand snake under his chin and lift his head up. His teary eyes met Galleon's, tears still dripping from his cheeks and seeping from his eyes. He felt a little better when he saw the anger was gone.

"I-I-I did not want to leave," Web gulped. "I-I heard you w-would s-send me b-back when I-I was he-healed. I-I would have rather stayed sick all my life then l-leave . . ."

Galleon regarded the elfling with half-surprise half-sadness. After a moment, he pressed Web's head to his chest and let him cry.

Zionel's face fell as he heard Web's words. It felt wrong to send the elfling away and break his heart but, at the same time, it did not seem like he could stay.

"A-are you going to send me b-back now?" Web asked, swallowing his sobs.

"No, Web," Galleon said kindly. "Not yet. I am sorry I threatened you."

Anialia beckoned to her husband. "We need to talk, dearest."

Galleon could not have agreed more. The peace of the night had been disrupted and a hundred doors had opened. It was time for wisdom to decide which one to take. He shifted Web to Zionel's lap as his son knelt to receive the weeping boy and met Zionel's saddened eyes as he rose to his feet and followed his wife into the kitchen.

Zionel sat and hugged Web to him, rocking the boy in his arms. He said nothing, feeling as though words were useless but tried to let his feeling speak for him. Web cried, seeing his future as bleak ad hopeless. He felt Zionel's love but no longer wanted it for he knew once he left, he would never have it again. As his tears and desperation mounted up, he shoved Zionel away and crawled into the dark corner behind the armchair to weep into the dust and cobwebs.

"Web," Zionel said in soft distress, the one shove of rejection feeling like a knife stab.

Web pressed his face against the wall. As Zionel came toward him, Web jumped to his feet and ran for the door. This time he made it and fled into the cold night. Zionel stood in the doorway with a helpless expression on his face as Web disappeared into the night. Briar leapt past him and ran after Web.

Zionel turned to meet the eyes of his parents with a hopeless shrug.


	29. Family

Web ran, tears pouring down his face, into the dark woods. He stumbled and tripped, crashing into the rough trunks of tree, staggering blindly in the dark. He looked behind him and his eyes widened as he heard the crashing of feet and a pair of glowing eyes. He blinked and sank to his knees as Briar whined at his feet and wrapped his arms around the wolf's neck, sobbing.

"Oh, Briar, I am so happy to see you," Web wept.

The wolf licked his face, tasting the salt of his tears. Web looked up, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve as a cold mist fell across his face, dusting his hair with tiny raindrops. Leave and branches covered the line of sight to the sky but not one star shone, a sure sign dark clouds covered it, hanging low to empty a steady rain down upon the earth.

Web stumbled to his feet and plodded on, his bare feet cold against the damp ground. Briar whined and followed with an anxious expression as if trying to draw him homeward but Web could not return after running away. Not after what had happened.

The dark thickened around him and the sound of rain falling was all he heard. He began to feel sick and the dizzy feeling of the ginjali working in his blood returned. He swallowed, feeling his stomach heave, and dropped to the ground to vomit up his insides. His breath came in gasps and his heart fluttered as the air became tainted with the putrid smell of puke. He stumbled to his feet as Briar dug his teeth into the cloth of his sleeve and dragged him across the ground into the meager shelter of a small cave in the hillside ahead.

Web crawled into the far corner and curled up, rocking back and forth with moans of despair. His wet hair dangled in his eyes, dark against his pale face. He looked at Briar, shivering in the cold and his damp clothes.

"Galleon," he whispered, and fainted.

Briar licked Web's face but the elfling did not stir. He sat back and whined. After a moment he turned and ran from the cave.

* * *

Zionel hunkered low in the armchair, his eyes on the floor directly below his feet. Galleon sighed and looked at him from across the room as he opened the door to his room and let Anialia pass him with Ilune in her arms.

"He is gone, Zionel," Galleon said. "We cannot look for him in the rain and the dark of night. Sleep."

Zionel nodded, his eyes tired. Galleon started to close the bedroom door but stopped as he heard scratching and whining at the door.

"Briar!" Zionel said, the blood draining from his face. The wolf would not have left Web unless something bad had happened to him. He bounded across the room but Galleon already had the door open and the dripping wolf shot into the house. He grabbed Zionel's sleeve in his teeth and pulled him toward the gaping hole of darkness, his ears laid back, whining.

"Something has happened to Web," Zionel said, reaching for his boots and clock at the same time. "I am going after him."

"I will come with you," Galleon said, jerking on his oiled coverings and boots at the same time. He looked over his shoulder as Anialia approached with a lit lantern in her hand.

"You will need a light," she said, handing it to Zionel. She leaned forward to kiss Galleon on the cheek and stood in the doorway to watch them go. "Stay safe."

"We will," Zionel called, squinting as the rain blew into his eyes. He hunched his shoulders and followed after Briar.

The rain had washed most of the scent away but Briar followed the scrapes and traces of the smell with dogged determination, doubling back and double-checking his steps. He called up the dim memories of Web's path to aid him through the stormy night and walked on.

The wind and rain made an uncomfortable mix but the small light the lantern gave burned on steadily, protected from the wind. It flickered over the mouth of a small cave in a hill and Briar's stalwart form as he stood on the hill, looking back at them.

Zionel and Galleon sprinted up the hill and peered into the low reach of the cave. Web's pale skin alerted them to his presence as the lantern light ran over him.

"Web!" Zionel called.

The elfling did not stir. As Briar licked Web's face, Galleon realized he was unconscious. He ducked into the cave and slid his arms under Web's small frame, lifting him in a strong embrace. Worried and dripping, both elves let the wind blow them home.

* * *

Web cracked his eyes open and saw above him the same familiar ceiling. He turned his head, overwhelmed with relief to be back at Galleon's house despite all that had happened. It felt good to be out of the cold rain.

A hand touched his cheek and, recognizing it, Web pressed his face against it with a soft sound of appreciation.

"Hey," Zionel said, leaning down over him.

"Mmm," Web said hesitantly.

"It is all right, Web," Zionel said. "We are not angry you ran away. Ada and naneth understand. Naneth says you will not even catch cold."

Web let his eyes rest on the wall opposite. He looked up as Zionel handed him a mug.

"But naneth says you do have to drink this," Zionel said. "It will expel the ginjali from your body."

Web took the mug and sipped the liquid. His face twisted as the awful bitterness slid down his throat. As the memory of the vomiting and dizziness came back, he choked down the rest of the medicine and let Zionel take the mug.

The fire was glowing in the dark, crackling and throwing out sparks. Web turned onto his side under the warm covers to look at it until it faded from his sight and into sleep. He slept uneasily, not sure he wanted to wake up and face Anialia and Galleon. But at least Zionel would be there.

And when he did wake up, Galleon was sitting in the armchair beside him, his face obscured behind the pages of a word-covered sheet. He lowered the paper as he heard Web stir and smiled at him. Web sat up, the blankets falling down off his chest. He could hear the sounds of Zionel's axe cutting wood. Anialia and Ilune were nowhere in sight and no delicious smells from the kitchen marked their presence.

"How are you feeling?" Galleon asked.

"Fine," Web answered, looking down at his hands. "I-I am sorry I ran away. It was not a wise thing to do and I endangered myself . . . and you."

Galleon tossed the sheaf of papers he held onto the small table beside him and leaned forward to take Web's small, shaking hands in his. "Yes, but we found you and everything worked out for the best. We only realized how much we cared about you until your life was at risk again."

Web looked a little uncertain. "C-cared?" Only Zionel cared . . . right?

"Anialia and I could not sleep last night," Galleon replied. "Even after you were found and safely back here, our dreams were still haunted. Even Ilune was worried."

Web remembered the red crayon and smiled.

Galleon coughed and Web's eyes jerked to his face. "Anialia and I can not have anymore children for a while. Ilune's birth was difficult and the healers told her to wait many years for her womb to strength or she will endanger her life and the life of any child she carries. Although we both wanted another child, we have to wait until those years have gone by. But you are grown and you need a family. We would like to be that family, Web, if you want us."

Web's head spun and the old feeling of the ginjali working its dizziness returned but it was not from the plant in his blood this time. He did not know how babies were made, as his mother had died at his birth, and he had little experience with females. All he knew was that they looked different. He had known his father in the cellar and the time with the female healers of the palace healing wing had been the first time he had met a female. So, while the first lines of Galleon's collected speech made little sense, he did understand what Galleon was asking. And he knew he would never say no.

Words choked him and he could not bring himself to force the yes past the happiness on his lips. Unable to speak, he leaned into Galleon's arms and hugged him, silent tears dripping down his nose. He knew Galleon would understand.


	30. A Good Home

**This is not exactly a warning but more of a combination of an alert and a spoiler. After the blessed horizontal line, Realn walks in to find his parents engaged in intimate matters. It is a brief scene, lasting only a few lines, and very nondescript but I just thought I would let you know.**

* * *

"He has been what?" Realn asked, almost dropping his fork.

Thranduil looked at him patiently. "For the second time, I told you; he has been adopted."

"What?" Legolas said, as if hearing for the first time. He was seated around the dinner table with his family, enjoying the last meal of the day.

"Stop antagonizing your father," Cinwe cut in. "Thranduil, say that one more time for me."

"Web has been adopted," Thranduil said.

Brenen smirked. "I know. Zionel told me. I went out to see if he wanted to tramp through the woods with me but he shut the door in my face and told me to go away as he was with his new little brother."

"I am sure you felt that way," Cinwe said complacently. "But I know Zionel and he has excellent manners."

Brenen pursed his lips. "Then I am guessing you will not want to hear about what I did as way of getting revenge."

Mykar chewed his mouthful of food. "Was Zionel's mother not once a rival in love with you, naneth?"

Cinwe frowned at him. "And where did you hear such rubbish?"

"Anialia told me she had come close to marrying Thranduil," Mykar replied.

Cinwe folded her arms. "Not a word is true. She never had a chance. I roped your father in with one look!"

"Is that true, ada?" Mykar asked.

Thranduil sipped his wine.

"Well?" Cinwe pressed.

Thranduil lowered the cup. "Your mother and her rival both captured my attention. It is hard to say who would have one me for Anialia found she loved another."

"I still say I won you with one look," Cinwe said, and picked up her fork.

Mykar grinned and reached for a biscuit.

"I hope Web will be happy," Legolas said.

"He will," Thranduil said, covering Legolas's hand with his own. "Galleon and his as rich in love and happiness as we are. He will; have a good home."

"I wish I could see him," Legolas said.

"I do not think that will be possible for a while, Legolas," Cinwe said. "Web will want to spend time with his new family."

Thranduil cleared his throat. "Well, the adoption has not been approved and put to paper yet. I thought I would go down to Galleon's house in person and do the honors. And as our lives have been a part of Web's since the day he came to the healing wing, you can all come with me. With the exception of your mother, of course."

"Why must naneth stay at home?" Realn asked in surprise.

Thranduil leaned back in his chair and assumed a coy expression. "Well, it occurred to me your mother's claim of roping me in with one look might not be as strong as she says. I am not sure she could stand to meet her old rival in love in the eyes without feeling flames of jealously."

Brenen reached for his napkin as he broke down into tears of laughter, attracting the eye of the woman seated opposite his father.

"Well, I can assure you," Cinwe said, slamming her napkin down on the table, "Your father's fantasies are not true. I am coming and I shall look Anialia in the eye with as much grace and respect as I did the day I was married to your father!"

Brenen coughed into his napkin and wiped his lips with the fawn colored cloth. Judging the meal to be over by the sight of the empty dishes and platters around him, he pushed back his chair, saluted Thranduil, bowed to Cinwe, and skipped out of the room.

The scraping of chairs sounded and a stampede followed as the three quadruplets followed after their brothers. Only in the door did the four elflings look back and, suddenly remembering, called, "May we be excused, please?" as they vanished down the hall.

"No!" Cinwe muttered, but little elven ears were far beyond hearing.

Footsteps sounded and Brenen poked his head back into the room, inquiring, "Sorry, did you say something?"

"Nothing you would like to hear," Cinwe replied, and made shooing motions with her hands.

Brenen shrugged and disappeared as he ran to catch up with his brothers.

Thranduil looked down the empty table at his wife as Galion came in with a posse of servants to clear away the dishes.

"I suppose you are not about to apologize for the utter humiliation you put me through right before our children?" Cinwe said, with mock indignation in her voice.

"Certainly," said Thranduil graciously, rising to his feet and holding out his hand to Cinwe. "Come with me and I shall 'apologize' in the privacy of our chambers."

* * *

"It is bedtime," Mykar said.

Brenen looked at the polished clock on the mantelpiece in the family room. "It is ten minutes past bedtime."

"Are you going to bed?" Mykar asked, peering over the top of his book from where he sat, curled in the armchair.

Brenen affected to think deeply. After a moment he grinned. "No. I am going to wait until ada and naneth come and tell us to go to bed."

"You will get in trouble," Mykar said insufferably.

"You can go to bed," Brenen invited. "No one is stopping you."

Mykar thought about it. His head disappeared behind his book and he continued to read.

Brenen turned back to his game of chess with Legolas.

Realn slid out of his chair. "I am going to see if I can find them. Maybe they went out for a walk. I will ask Galion."

"Check their bedroom first," Mykar advised. "They may have already gone to bed."

"If they have, I shall stay up half the night and fashion ghosts from white linens to haunt the guards," Brenen said, brightening at the prospect.

"If they have gone to bed without coming to say goodnight, they must be tired," Legolas cut in. "And it also means they trust us to go to bed on time on our own."

"You spoil all the fun," Brenen grumbled, plunking down his chess piece on the board with a sour expression.

Realn slipped out of the room and headed up the hallway to his parents room. He came to the door and, not wishing to disturb Thranduil and Cinwe if they were, in fact, sleeping, he opened the door, keeping every creak minimized. He peered into the room and froze.

It did not take Realn long to realize he had come in at an inopportune moment as his eyes fell on the naked flesh on the bed. His heart almost halted its duty in his chest for, while he did not fully understand what his parents were doing, he did understand it was private and intimate and somewhat embarrassing to behold. With great presence of mind, he quietly shut the door lest it betray him, shutting off the sounds coming from within and tiptoed down the hall. As soon as he was out of hearing range, he broke into a run and fled back to the family room, arriving red faced upon the scene. His brothers looked at him with interest, Brenen's hand frozen midair in the move of his next chess piece.

"So, are they sleeping?" Brenen asked nonchalantly.

Realn gulped. "Um—um—no. They are busy. Very busy and do not want to be disturbed." His voice came out weak.

Brenen frowned. "Are you all right? Is this some kind of joke?"

"No, no," Realn said hurriedly. "But—um—we are to go to bed at once and—and we are not to disturb them, even to say goodnight."

"This is beginning to sound suspicious," Brenen remarked as he claimed the victory and rose to his feet with a yawn as Legolas put away the chess pieces and the game board.

Realn shrugged, unable to wipe the image of his parents out of his mind. He did not think he would ever be able to look at them in quite the same way again.

"We should rest," Legolas announced. "We have to rise early so we can go with ada and see Web!"

Brushing aside Realn's peculiar manner, the brothers went to bed.


	31. Adoption?

"I do not want to leave bed," Web murmured from his warm place against Zionel in his room.

Zionel yawned. "Why not? It is morning. And you are about to officially become my little brother!" He kissed the top of the curly pate before him.

Web curled tighter and rested his cheek on his hand. Zionel could not see his face but, if he could have, he would have been surprised at the misery and lines of worry he saw there.

"I know," Web said, in tones that betrayed him.

Zionel started. He raised himself up on an elbow and leaned down to look at Web's face. "My parents would not adopt you, Web, unless they loved you as they do me and Ilune."

"It is not that," Web said, rolling over and looking up into Zionel's eyes. "I-I am afraid they will treat me like you."

Zionel blinked as he lay down on his side beside the elfling. "Ada and naneth treat me well, Web. They are not mean to me. And they will treat you no different."

"That is the trouble," Web said, his voice trembling. "I-I cannot cut wood."

It might have been hilariously comical but Zionel did not laugh for he knew it would hurt Web's feelings.

"Laugh," Web said warily. "I know you want to."

"No, no," Zionel said, as he reached for Web's hand. "It is not funny and I understand your feelings. But, Web, ada and naneth will not ask you to do anymore then you are capable of. And you are not yet ready to cut wood. Ada knows that."

"When did you start?" Web asked.

"When I was about your age," Zionel answered.

Web looked dismayed as he rolled onto his side. "I-I do not know if I want to do this. What if—what if they start viewing me as a useless lump of flesh? I do not know much about how families work but—but—I do know everyone has to do their fair share and . . ."

Zionel encircled Web in a hug. "It is all right, Web. You do not need to worry about doing your fair share; ada and naneth will not ask you to more then you can. And if there is anything you do not understand, you can come to me and I will explain it."

"But you were already cutting wood at my age," Web began.

"Yes, but I had not spent practically all of my life locked up down cellar with an abusive father who popped down to thrash me on a written schedule," Zionel said, the words coming out with more intensity then he meant. He felt Web shiver. "You still have to recover from the years of abuse and regain strength you never had a chance to develop. You will get to cut wood but not until then. Do you want to cut wood now?" he added.

Web shook his head, twisting in the warm embrace. "No. I was afraid I would have to and I know I am too weak . . . are you sure they will not throw me out?"

"They would not do that to me or Ilune," Zionel said stoutly. "So they will not do it to you."

"But I am not related by blood," Web began.

"You are in spirit," Zionel interrupted. "And that is all that matters. I know you are worried now that the day is here; the jet of happiness in the beginning is over, but it will be fine. Nothing will change from the way you experienced while living with his. Except naneth might ask you to do a few things for her," he ended with a thoughtful expression.

Web squirmed and Zionel let him go as he tossed off the blankets and jumped out of bed. Zionel rushed into his clothes and made the bed while Web dressed more slowly.

Zionel stood at the door and waited for Web to come stand beside him. As he opened the door, Web lingered behind him.

A loud knock on the front door of the house sounded and Galleon left the easy chair to answer it. Web's heart lurched. This must be the official who would legalize the adoption.

Galleon opened the door, prepared to receive the person beyond but his composure broke as four identical elflings bounced past him into the room.

"King Thranduil!" Galleon said, standing frozen with the door still open. He glanced at the quadruplets and received four bows in unison.

Anialia shot out of the kitchen. "What? Him? Here?" She looked down at her floury apron with a dismayed expression.

Thranduil smiled. "Yes. I have the adoption papers with me. May I come in? This is my wife, Cinwe."

"Hmm, yes, I have heard all about her." And Galleon glanced at Anialia as he stood to the side, and hoped _his_ wife would not blow up at the sight of her old rival.

Cinwe breezed into the room with her head in the air. Anialia frowned.

"You are too kind," she said. "But really, there was no need to go through all the trouble. Your hair must have taken hours to do and the silk . . . was unnecessary."

Galleon slapped a hand to his forehead and Thranduil looked past him with a concerned expression. Mykar folded his arms and addressed his mother.

"I told you it was a stupid thing to do," he announced haughtily.

"If you must pass ridiculous and rude comments, you can get out and say them to the trees!" Cinwe snapped, jabbing a finger toward the door.

Mykar blinked. He held out his hands. "Hey, I was just saying!"

"Keep it zipped from now on," Cinwe said, running a finger across her lips.

Anialia sniffed. "I would not worry, Cinwe, dear. I am not going to steal your husband so there is no need to be so overprotective."

Cinwe tossed her head. "What nonsense. I did not come to protect my husband. As if!"

Thranduil took Galleon by the arm and sidled to the table, casting worried looks at the tense atmosphere between the two women. Galleon sank into a seat and stared at the sheaf of papers Thranduil slapped down before him.

"Years and jealousy still explodes on sight between them," he grumbled, flipping through the file. "It is not as if we act that way! Have they no sense?"

Thranduil looked at his wife. "Apparently not. Now, where is Web?"

Galleon turned and held out his arm to Web, lingering in the shadows of the bedroom door. Web came to him with a hesitant expression and leaned against him, his head on Galleon's shoulder.

Zionel came to stand behind the quadruplets, his arms folded across his chest. Brenen looked up with a grin and tugged on his sleeve. "So, Zionel, how have you been?"

"Well enough," Zionel replied. "Still sore from our last wrestle?"

"Not on your defeat!" Brenen replied with his eyes closed.

"How has fire-bending been?" Zionel asked.

"Your house would succumb to my fury in a second!" Brenen replied.

Zionel lapsed into silence, his eyes on Web but occasionally sliding to look at his mother's indignant face.

"I told her getting into her best dress and doing up her hair and putting on jewels would only be grounds for furious argument," Mykar said with an I-told-you-so expression.

"Be quiet," Realn said.

"I know you family personally," Thranduil said, "So there is no need for you to undergo the entire financial and personal investigation. All you need to do is sign your names on these lines and . . . Web will be your son." He smiled at the elfling, noticing how much more color had come into his cheeks.

Galleon took the pen and put his name to the paper. He handed it to Web and watched him scratch out the letters to his name with care. Then the woodcutter looked at his wife.

"You are needed, dear," he said.

Anialia flung the spoon in her hand behind her into the kitchen and sauntered past Cinwe to take up the pen. "You will have to excuse me, your royal highness! I have got important royal duties to attend to!"

"Hah!" said Cinwe.

"I want to stay," Legolas began as Anialia leaned down to sign her name.

Thranduil took Cinwe by the arm and shook his head. "No, I think we should be on our way. We will come back later after the family reunion is done and the air has cleared up a bit." He took up a copy of the papers on the table. "I will leave the other one with you. Farewell."

"Goodbye, Anialia, darling!" Cinwe called. "I think your bread is burning!"

The door shut. The house stood in silence.

Zionel was the first to move. He grabbed Web and hugged him to his chest. "How does it feel to be one of us, little brother?"

"It feels good," Web replied.

Zionel headed for the door. "Come with me outside. We will be back later, ada . . . naneth."

As soon as the two brothers were outside, Galleon turned on his wife. "What is with you? It is not as if you and Cinwe have anything to fight about now! You are both married, for valar's sake!"

But Anialia's only reply was, "That woman has never baked a loaf of bread in her life!" And she retired to the kitchen to find Ilune flinging her bread dough across the room, skating in flour, and giggling with delight.

* * *

 **Second to last chapter! I am so excited! The next in the Nin Chronicles will be up soon, featuring two lovely Elrondions known as Elladan and Elrohir!  
**


	32. You Did Not Kill Him!

Thranduil walked behind his wife, realizing this was not the time to talk to her. Brenen, Realn, and Mykar ran ahead but Legolas sidled along beside him, his hands behind his back.

"Do you want to talk about something?" Thranduil asked.

Legolas shook his head. "No . . . how is Eigil?"

"He fades rapidly, oblivious to the world. The healers expect him to be gone soon."

"I killed him," Legolas said. "I feel as though his death is my fault. I am the one who burned him."

"Eigil tried to kill you," Thranduil said. "Your actions were in self-defense. Eigil brought his misfortune upon himself."

Legolas sighed. "I know, but I have still helped end an elf. How can I life knowing I killed an elf? I do not want the blood of my own kin on my hands! I do not want to be a kinslayer!" His voice was rising to a hysterical pitch.

"Legolas, no one blames you for the consequences of Eigil's actions."

"I blame myself. You cannot pretend I have not done something I have!" Legolas cried.

Thranduil switched tactics. "I love you, Legolas. You could murder someone and we will all still love you. The same goes for our people. Everyone knows how it happened."

Legolas stopped. "Please go on without me. I-I want to be alone for a while."

Thranduil understood Legolas wished to be on his own so he ran to catch up with his wife, giving a backward glance to his son's forlorn form on the path.

Cinwe looked at him.

"I am glad you, at least, have calmed down," Thranduil said. The palace came into view as he slid an arm around his wife.

Cinwe sighed and ran a hand across her forehead. "I-I am sorry. I do not know what happened . . ."

Thranduil smiled. "It is all right. We all have unexplainable outbursts from time to time."

"I suppose tonight I will be apologizing to you!" Cinwe teased. She reached up to kiss him but the cry of a healer waving from the palace doors startled her.

"Come quickly! You are in time; Eigil is dying and he will be gone in minutes!"

Thranduil's eyes widened and he broke into a run. Cinwe and the quadruplets followed behind him. No one noticed Legolas's terrified expression in the moment.

At Eigil's healing chamber, the elves slowed to a walk and quietly entered the chamber.

Eigil lay on the bed, his eyes half closed. He turned his head, cheeks sunken and hollow, and grinned at Legolas.

"You miserable little beast," he slurred. "May your life be riddled with unhappiness!"

Legolas winced and clung to Thranduil's hand.

"You will never escape me!" Eigil wheezed. "I will die and you will live, knowing you killed an elf! Yes, princeling, you are a kinslayer!"

"No!" Legolas shrank back.

"Yes! A monster, Legolas, an elf-killer!" Eigil coughed. "A crime most horrible! A kinslayer! You will never escape it, murderer!"

Eigil flopped back, blood gurgling up from his mouth as the life faded from his eyes.

Legolas turned and buried his face in Thranduil's chest. He sobbed. "It is true, ada. I am a kinslayer and a murderer! I k-k-k-killed him!"

Thranduil rubbed circles on Legolas's back, offering no comfort but the sanctuary of his embrace. Healer Helix slipped quietly into the room and pulled the sheet over Eigil's head, pausing to send a prayer to the valar. He looked at Thranduil as he left, giving a smile to the faces of the three quadruplets, their eyes enlightened by the death they had witnessed.

"I killed him," Legolas repeated. "I-I cannot fire-bend ever again! Not after what I have done. Never again!"

Legolas hugged himself tight to Thranduil, weeping into his chest. The elven king cast a stricken look at Cinwe as he took Legolas in his arms and guided him up to his bedchamber. Legolas flopped down numbly on his bed and cried into his hands, tears dripping from between his fingers. Thranduil's heart tore at the sight of the silver drops. He sat down beside his son and took Legolas by the shoulders. Legolas leaned against him and cried. His breath came in broken gasps, his eyes streamed, and his face was a picture of misery.

"I do not want to live," Legolas murmured, his fea flickering as Thranduil rocked him. "Humans kill humans; that is the way of man. But elves should not kill their own kind . . . I wish I was dead . . ."

"No! Legolas, you must not wish for such horrible things. I need you, little leaf. Naneth and your brothers need you."

Legolas said nothing but he turned and hid his face in Thranduil's shirt. Thranduil sighed and hugged him, looking up as the door opened. Cinwe came into the room with Healer Helix behind her. Legolas's brothers peeked around the doorframe with anxious faces.

Helix bowed. "My lord, the healers and I found this on Eigil's body as we prepared it for its burial." He held up a small, clear glass vial. "From our analyzes, it held a deadly poison known to destroy the lungs, producing symptoms akin to Eigil's."

Legolas's head jerked up, knocking into the chin of his father's shocked face. "You-you mean Eigil poisoned himself? But why?"

"He poisoned himself so he would die, Legolas, and you would fade with the knowledge you had killed an elf. Your pure heart would not have been able to live with the taint," the healer answered.

Thranduil hissed.

"I-I did not kill him?" Legolas asked in a raw voice.

"No, Legolas," Helix replied kindly. "You did not kill Eigil. He ended himself."

Legolas drew in a deep breath of relief and his eyes brightened with his energy again. He looked up at his father and gave a small smile to apologize for the strife he had caused.

Thranduil patted his head and held out both arms to his wife and sons.

Later, when peace was restored, Mykar came upon his mother putting on her cloak and preparing to go out. She patted down her hair, looking at herself in the mirror, and turned, bumping into him.

"Oh!" she said. "Mykar, do try and make some noise when you come in so I may hear you!"

"Where are you going?" Mykar asked.

Cinwe sighed and dropped her arms. "I am going out to call on Anialia and make amends for my appalling behavior earlier. It was not noble of me to behave the way I did."

"I will come with you to make it easier," Mykar offered.

"Thank you. The company would be nice." Cinwe took his hand.

"I wonder how Web is," Mykar said as they walked, leaving the palace behind.

"Happy, I am sure," Cinwe said.

"Where is ada?"

"He went out to the courtyard with your brothers," Cinwe replied. She looked down at the blond head beside her. "He looked for you but you were not to be found. You should join them for practice next time. Your father and brothers like your company."

Mykar kicked a rock off the path. "Ah, naneth, I am not so eager to fire bend. I prefer papers and ink."

"Well, you should still practice," Cinwe said. "Your fire bending is a part of you as much as papers and ink."

Mykar said nothing.

"Promise me you will join your brothers for the next session," Cinwe continued.

"I promise," Mykar said meekly.

"Thank you. And here we are."

Cinwe walked up the path to Galleon's house and knocked on the door. Mykar left her to peer around the corner of the house to the woodpile. Zionel was cutting wood, the blows of his axe ringing out but he did not seem to notice the intruder.

Galleon answered the door. An expression of concern came over his face at the sight of Cinwe.

"There is not anything wrong with the papers, is there?" he asked.

"I am not here on business," Cinwe answered. "I have come to see your wife. Is she here?" She craned her head to see the room beyond Galleon's shoulder.

Galleon's eyebrows drooped low. "I see . . . she is in the kitchen, cleaning up a doughy mess. Um, come in?"

Cinwe stepped past him, noticing Mykar had chosen to stay outside. She saw Web sitting by the fireplace, looking over his shoulder at Galleon. Galleon waved to the kitchen door and went to rejoin his son.

Anialia was on her hands and knees, sleeves rolled up, using a bucket of soapy water and rags to clean the lumps of dough and flour off the floor, created by Ilune's explosion of fun with the bread sponge. She looked up, wiping her hair off her brow and frowned.

"I have come to apologize for causing a fight between us," Cinwe said. "We are both married and we ought to have more sense. Old jealousies are behind us."

"How right you are," Anialia said. "And I accept your apology. There is not anything to fight about, after all. I was wrong to help initiate the battle to begin with."

"We have been friends since elflinghood," Cinwe continued. "Marriage should not change that."

"And we are friends again," Anialia said. "Apology accepted."

Cinwe rolled up her sleeves and tossed the folds of her cloak onto the clean counter. She got down on her knees and reached for a wet rag. "I will help you clean up. What happened?"

"Ilune," said Anialia with a drooping expression.

"Elflings," said Cinwe with a grin.

"You have not had a daughter yet!" Anialia said. "They are trouble, especially at the courting age!"

"There are years until Ilune is old enough," Cinwe said, brushing that aside. "She is still napping at this time."

* * *

"I have arranged for a picnic," Cinwe announced at dinner.

Ellhamier coughed on his food. "Eh, what?"

"A picnic," Cinwe repeated, staring down the table at her husband. "With Galleon and his family."

Legolas upset his drink in excitement. "What? When?"

Ciran held out an absent hand and swept the spilled drink off the cloth and back into its glass.

"I arranged for it when I was down at Galleon's house an hour ago," Cinwe said.

"She was apologizing," Mykar put in.

"It is tomorrow," Cinwe said, ignoring her son.

Brenen punched his fist into his palm with a wicked grin. "And that will be the day when I beat Zionel at arm wrestling!"

"I look forward to tomorrow," Thranduil said. "And I am happy you and Anialia settled your differences after all these years."

"They settled it over the dirty kitchen floor," Mykar said.

Ellhamier shrugged. "Makes good ground for a reunion," he said. And ducked as Cinwe threw a piece of bread at him.

* * *

 **Yes, this is The End. Or is it?  
**

 **Keep your eyes peeled for Nin Chronicles: My Word: Elladan and Elrohir live lives normal by their father's standards, but both twins struggle to accept the way Elrond has chosen to raise them, their hearts hurt and cut by the Great Lie. When a demon possesses Elrohir, according to Elrond, their lives may change forever. Will their injured hearts ever know true love, or will they fade from the cruelty Elrond views as fair?**


End file.
